


Say You Do(n't)

by stardropdream



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Background Relationships, Established Relationship, Happy Ending, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Marriage Proposal, Post-Canon, Season 8 Doesn't Exist, Team as Family, Wedding Planning, Weddings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-23
Updated: 2020-06-23
Packaged: 2021-03-04 05:48:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 44,864
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24878704
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stardropdream/pseuds/stardropdream
Summary: Being friends with Shiro has always been easy. Being in a relationship with Shiro has always been easy. When Keith asks Shiro to marry him, he assumes that wedding planning and marrying Shiro will be just as easy.He is very wrong.Between competing party suggestions, universal diplomacy concerns, issues of self-worth, and Shiro's apparent indifference to the wedding, Keith definitely has his work cut out for him if he wants to give Shiro the perfect wedding.
Relationships: Keith/Shiro (Voltron)
Comments: 165
Kudos: 266
Collections: Black Paladins Bang 2020





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is my big bang entry for [the Black Paladins Big Bang](https://twitter.com/BangSheith)! This was my first bang ever, so it was a fun experience. I've wanted to write this fic for a long time and just haven't gotten around to it, so this felt like a great opportunity to finally make it happen.
> 
> I got to work with the amazing artist, [ArdentKnight](https://ardentknight.tumblr.com/)! Check out their art for this fic [here](https://ardentknight.tumblr.com/post/621779019545837568/i-had-the-pleasure-of-working-with-stardropdream) and be sure to give it some love. Both pics are from early-on in the fic, so not too spoilery! ♥ 
> 
> There are so many people to thank for cheerleading on this fic: [Ele](https://twitter.com/saltyshiro) and [Sarah](https://twitter.com/ailurea) who both generously read drafts of this fic and made me feel like I wasn't about to go crazy and/or that what I wrote wasn't total crap. (Seriously, you two are gems). But also huge thanks to [Sharki](https://twitter.com/leftishark_), [Abbey](https://twitter.com/sepiacigarettes), [Christie](https://twitter.com/appetixing), and [Janel](https://twitter.com/goldentruth813) for listening to me cry haha. 
> 
> And, of course, a HUGE thank you to my beta, [Meg](https://twitter.com/kedawen), who read through 45k for me and is TRULY the MVP here.

“Hey,” Keith says quietly, shifting beside Shiro. 

“Mm?” 

They’re lying flat on their backs, looking up at the sky. It’s their typical Friday night— hoverbikes out into the desert, lounging at their favorite spot, and watching the sun sink down to saturate the horizon in a riot of orange and yellow. Shiro’s favorite part, Keith knows, is when the sun colors finally drift away and the stars come out, punctuating the sky until it’s a freckled face across the heavens. 

Shiro looks blissful beside Keith, hands folded on his stomach, slowly rising and falling with his breath. His eyes are soft, glancing away from the sky to look at Keith in turn. When Keith doesn’t immediately say anything more, Shiro rolls until he’s on his side, tucking one hand beneath his head, the other reaching out to settle on Keith’s stomach. 

It occurs to Keith that he’s never been more content. He never considered that only a year after the war’s end, a year settling into life in general, life with his family, life with Shiro, he’d be so perfectly happy. 

It occurs to Keith that there was a time when he thought he’d never be happy, when he thought he’d always be alone and sad and miserable and unwanted. 

Helplessly, Keith reaches out to cup his hand over Shiro’s cheek. It fits perfectly, just as it always has every time Keith touches Shiro like this. It makes Shiro smile, his cheek plumping up against Keith’s palm. 

They’re in their spot, the stars soaking the sky above them. He’s here with the man he loves the most in the entire universe, genuinely content. Shiro smiles at Keith and it’s everything. Keith can’t believe he gets to live this life and exist like this. 

“What are you thinking about?” Shiro asks, a gentle prompting. That’s just always been Shiro’s way: letting Keith know he can speak but always accepting Keith’s silence. 

“You,” Keith says. 

It makes Shiro laugh. Keith’s bluntness always does that, like he thinks Keith’s joking. They both know Keith’s serious. 

Keith frowns at him, thumb swiping across his bottom lip. It makes Shiro’s smile widen. 

“And what about me, specifically?” Shiro asks. He scoots closer, the hand on Keith curling to wrap around him properly. 

Keith rolls properly onto his side to face Shiro, letting himself get tugged in closer. He grumbles as Shiro leans close to kiss him, as if Keith’s done anything that warrants the affection— but then, Shiro just kisses him whenever he feels like it regardless of whether he thinks Keith’s done something cute or not. Truthfully, Keith loves that. He’s never going to be tired of kissing Shiro. 

“Hey,” Shiro says softly.

“Mm?” 

That makes Shiro grin wider. “You’re cute.”

“Shut up,” Keith says, laughing. He pinches Shiro’s cheek, which just makes Shiro laugh, too. 

“I’ll shut up once you tell me what you’re thinking about,” Shiro says, and squirms away from Keith’s pinching fingers. He’s very bad at that whole self-preservation, since he just tugs Keith in closer and kisses his nose. It’s like he wants to be pinched. 

Keith bites Shiro’s cheek instead and it makes Shiro bark a surprised laugh, squirming and pinning Keith down against their sandy stargazing blanket. Keith lets out a soft _oof_ but otherwise doesn’t complain, hooking his leg around Shiro’s waist. He’s hardly a stranger to being beneath Shiro and he’s hardly ever going to complain about the position. 

“I, um,” Keith says. He pauses.

Shiro tilts his head, turning to press a kiss to Keith’s palm. It makes Keith feel all dopey again, his heart swooping into his stomach. He grins at Shiro, sure he looks stupid and dumb— they’ve been together for well over a year now, there’s no reason he should still feel this way, and yet. 

Keith licks his lips. “Do you want to get married?”

Shiro pauses, his smiling mouth pressed to Keith’s palm. Keith holds his breath, his smile somewhere between frozen and genuine. He watches as Shiro slides his lips over his hand and up to each finger, kissing each callused fingertip. 

“Yeah, Keith,” Shiro says and it’s easy. 

“No, I mean— not hypothetically. I mean, I’m asking.” 

“I know,” Shiro says, eyes flicking up to meet Keith’s. He grins. “And I’m saying yes.”

“Really?”

“Did you think I’d say no?” 

Keith fumbles, laughing. “I— I didn’t get a ring. Or down on one knee. I didn’t plan this. I didn’t—”

Shiro cups his chin and drags him close, kissing him silent. Keith groans and deepens the kiss, grabbing Shiro by the cheek again to pull him in so they can deepen that kiss. When they part again, Keith feels a little dizzy and breathless. 

“We’re basically married anyway, aren’t we?” Shiro asks, his smile boyish. “You’ve brought me home from death, Keith. You’ve crossed the universe for me. As if we’re going to break up any time soon.”

Keith growls at the very thought. “ _Never._ ”

“Exactly,” Shiro says, chuckling. He kisses Keith again, then peppers up his jaw. “Let’s get married.” 

“Yeah,” Keith says, feeling thrilled at the idea of it. “Yeah, Shiro, I—” 

He pulls Shiro back in to kiss him sloppily. Thankfully, as in all things, Shiro is there to meet him halfway, delighted to start licking into Keith’s mouth and sucking on his tongue. It makes Keith groan, lurching up to kiss him harder. 

“I’ll—” Keith cuts himself off, giggling, kissing Shiro breathless. He can taste Shiro’s smile and his heart soars. “We can tell everyone at dinner tomorrow.” 

Shiro cups Keith’s face, trying to kiss him deeper still and managing just to drag his teeth over Keith’s bottom lip and kiss his jaw, his expression moony and delirious. “Perfect, Keith.” 

Keith always blushes at the way Shiro says it. It always sounds exactly that: _Perfect Keith, Perfect Keith, you are perfect, Keith._

Keith tangles his fingers in the longer cut of Shiro’s hair, pushing it from his face. He feels flushed, cheeks warm and his smile dopey. He always wants to be perfect for Shiro. 

“Yeah,” he croaks and lets Shiro kiss him again. He lets Shiro drag a big hand down his front, too, his breath quickly hitching in delight at the touch. He’s quick to rock into Shiro’s touch, encouraging. 

They’ve been through hell and back, fought the universe itself to bring peace. But loving Shiro has always been the easiest thing Keith’s ever done— falling and falling and never stopping. Loving Shiro is easy. Being with Shiro is easy. Asking Shiro to marry him is easy. Marrying Shiro, he’s sure, will be just as easy— just for them, a quiet devotion to mark them as belonging to each other for the rest of time, across the universe. No matter what. 

-

Later, when they get back home, after Shiro’s already lazing in their bed, Keith washes his face and brushes his teeth and gets ready to sleep. 

He stares at himself in the mirror. He thinks, _You’re engaged._

He thinks, _You love Shiro and you’re going to marry him._

The thoughts make Keith smile. He looks at himself in the mirror and tries to see what Shiro sees whenever he looks at him— he knows how much Shiro likes his smile, likes the color of his eyes, likes to trace his thumb down the unfaded scar on his cheek. He knows that Shiro thinks he’s beautiful. 

He never would have guessed he’d ever be someone who’d be engaged, much less to Shiro. 

_You don’t deserve Shiro._

It’s not the first time he’s thought the thought. It pops up occasionally and he’s gotten good at ignoring it. But it’s an inextricable part of his life that he’s learned to live with: he’s never going to really deserve Shiro. Guys like Shiro aren’t supposed to love guys like Keith. Part of Keith still can’t believe Shiro hasn’t figured that out. 

And just like that, the doubt wriggles in. 

Keith stands there, brushing his teeth, and belatedly panics over his lackluster, imperfect proposal. He didn’t even get Shiro a ring. He didn’t plan anything. It was just a spontaneous, reckless question. Shiro deserved so much more.

Shiro, after all, deserves the world. He deserves fanfare and romance. He deserves, at the very least, to have Keith down on his knee asking the question properly. Not a spur-of-the-moment question. It’s almost like he didn’t even care— and Shiro deserves to know just how cared for he is. 

Shiro deserves perfection, the proof that Keith would do anything to give him the world. 

Keith spits into the sink, afraid to raise his face again and peer at himself in the mirror. He washes his mouth out and stands there for a moment before he clicks the bathroom light off. 

“Keith?” Shiro calls out when Keith stands there in the dark. “You coming?” 

Keith looks up and stares at himself in the mirror, his Galra vision making the reflection perfectly visible even in the dark. He sighs. He closes his eyes. 

He’ll give Shiro the perfect wedding. It’s the very least Shiro deserves. Keith will make sure that it’s the perfect day for Shiro and then he’ll spend every day for the rest of his life making sure he’s worthy of Shiro. In this, he can prove his love. 

That’s a simple enough resolution. His life has always been devoted to Shiro, anyway. 

“Coming,” he calls back and trots through the dark to return to Shiro’s side. 

-

Saturday nights are the weekly Paladin dinner nights; it’s been their tradition since the war’s end. Even if the host changes weekly, even if not everybody can make it every week, it’s still something they all make a point to do, gathering together and having dinner potluck style. 

They pause just outside Hunk’s house— this week’s host— holding hands as Shiro cradles the covered casserole dish full of Keith’s famous dumplings. Keith takes a steadying breath. 

“You alright?” Shiro asks, smiling. 

“I guess I’m nervous? I mean, I know they’ll be happy for us when we tell them,” Keith says. He shifts from foot to foot and sighs out when Shiro squeezes his hand. “I just— they’re going to be _loud._ ” 

“They’ll be happy for us, yes,” Shiro agrees. He kisses Keith’s temple. “But that’s a good thing. You’ll need to get the door, sweetheart, my hands are full.” His smile is sympathetic when he adds, “But whenever you’re ready. We can wait until you feel prepared.” 

“Ha,” Keith says with a snort. “Am I ever prepared for them being loud?” 

“It’s okay to be nervous,” Shiro says. He, of course, looks totally unflappable. 

“Are _you_ nervous?”

Shiro considers and then shakes his head. “Maybe a little?” He laughs. “But, mostly, I just want you to be happy. I can be the one to tell them if you’d rather?” 

“No, it’s fine. We’ll tell them together.” 

Keith takes another deep, steadying breath, reminding himself that it _is_ just their friends. Their friends who love them and are happy for them. They won’t look at Keith and see his shortcomings or all the ways he doesn’t deserve Shiro. And, anyway, Keith can get better. He can do right by Shiro. 

Make everything perfect for Shiro. 

He leans up to kiss Shiro’s cheek in a quick peck. Shiro’s smile is overly fond when Keith draws away and that, more than anything, settles Keith for now. He can focus on the positives when he needs to. He’s here with Shiro. They can do this. He grins back at Shiro before he tugs him to enter Hunk’s house. The Paladins are well past knocking now. 

They’re met with organized chaos, as usual. Hunk’s shouting from the kitchen about overcooked fish, Romelle is arguing with Pidge over whether it’s appropriate for her to have brought her date to their dinner, Lance is running late (which only promises more loudness later), Allura is attempting to assist a snappy Hunk, and Coran is talking with someone on the phone, loudly. 

Shiro gives a sympathetic cringe as they’re assaulted by the barrage of sound. Keith makes a face, letting the wolf slink past them and barrel straight for Allura. That makes Allura shriek— still not used to or particularly fond of the wolf— and bump shoulders with Hunk, leaving Hunk to slosh green sauce all over the floor.

They’re _loud_ and Keith loves his family, but he’s already dreading once he and Shiro share their news and they get even louder. Keith heaves a big sigh, fighting a smile. Paladin Dinners tend to be a little crazy, and it seems tonight is no different.

The wolf gives a pleased yip and starts lapping up the puddle of sauce on the kitchen floor. 

Shiro sets down their dumplings on the table and then they split up, doing damage control. Keith pushes Coran out onto the back balcony then hooks his arm around Pidge, dragging her away to talk to her about the newest modifications on his ship, leaving Romelle to focus on her date. Shiro swans into the kitchen, suggesting Hunk call Lance to figure out his ETA, then helps Allura whisk the green sauce until it’s properly frothy. 

By the time the group’s settled down and the last of dinner is set out on the table, everyone grabbing a plate and serving themselves, Shiro catches Keith’s eye and winks. Keith feels a thrill shoot down his spine, his smile loopy. That’s just Shiro’s way— even when Keith’s feeling overwhelmed, Shiro can always center him. 

“Hey, guys—” he says, turning to the group.

But the door bangs open and Lance shouts, “Okay, I’m here!” He runs into the room, nearly tripping over his shoes as he throws them off. He flops straight into Hunk, wriggling past to crane his neck and peer at Shiro and Keith’s casserole dish. “What did I miss? Is there still some dumplings left?”

Pidge shoves one into her mouth. “Nope.”

There’s plenty of dumplings left; Keith’s long since learned to quadruple his recipe for Paladin Dinners. Lance lets out a mournful sound as he watches Pidge chew— with her mouth open no less— and looks like he might actually start crying.

“There’s plenty left, Lance,” Shiro says, handing over his plate because he’s a gentleman and a sweetheart. 

“Molly wants some, too,” Romelle pipes up, her arm slung through with her date, presumably Molly. Molly looks supremely uncomfortable surrounded by all these strangers but attempts a winning smile as all eyes swivel towards her. “I was telling her all about them on the ride over.” 

“Um,” Molly says.

“Here,” Keith says, holding his plate out. He turns back to the group as they start piling on more food to their plates. “Anyway, everyone, there’s something we gotta say.” 

“Let it wait, Keith,” Lance says, shoveling more dumplings onto his plate and nearly elbowing Pidge in the face for it. It’s hardly aggressive ribbing, but Pidge is definitely trying to squirm under his arm to steal his dumplings. They’re about two seconds away from outright wrestling on the table. Keith watches Shiro inch a pitcher of lemonade away from their flailing. 

Shiro sends Keith a small, amused smile from across the table. Keith shrugs and lets the Paladins fight it out for their food. They can share their news later. 

Once everyone’s settled at their spots, eating happily, Keith tries to bring it up again, but doesn’t manage to start the conversation before Pidge launches into an explanation of the newest tech she and Hunk have developed. Allura chimes in to ask about the practical applications and it descends into a flurried, lively conversation— and Keith doesn’t have the heart to interrupt when they’re so enthusiastic about Olkari Crystal subharmonics in correlation with Balmera Crystal. 

Then, after _that_ also dies down, Shiro tries to say something— only to be interrupted again when Coran announces the upcoming week’s meetings for the Paladins’ continued universal efforts. Even with their allegiance with the Garrison officially severed, they’re still doing their work to keep the Coalition strong. 

It’s been good work on the Paladins’ parts. It took them a few months to find their footing, but they have the Voltron Organization for Peace (VOP, for short) up and running now— the Paladins’ way of contributing to the war’s end across the universe, working to bring stability, resources, and infrastructure to those affected by the Empire and its crumbled control. 

It was a good compromise, ultimately— they’re beholden to no planetary organization, Earth or otherwise, and they work closely with the Blades, the Garrison, and other Coalition forces to bring good. So far, it’s been a lot of diplomacy meetings and working out the logistics with those planets, but there’s been plenty of work with boots-on-the-ground, which has always been Keith’s preferred method of instituting change. 

But it does mean that Coran, Allura, Pidge— everyone tends to bring up business during their dinners. It’s usually the best time to introduce what they’ll work on the following week, since otherwise it’s much like herding cats trying to get everyone into a meeting room. Keith’s long-since given up on organizing meetings despite still being the leader. 

“Herding cats,” Keith mouths to Shiro now because he knows it’s Shiro’s favorite joke. 

_Well,_ he’d said the first time Keith called it that, trying to say the words through his fit of laughter, _We did pilot sentient robot cats… seems appropriate._

Shiro also hadn’t disagreed with the assessment, so Keith knows that Shiro secretly agrees: organizing the team is a nightmare sometimes. 

Regardless of Shiro and Keith’s efforts to steer the conversation, the dinner is fun and lively and the food is delicious— even if Hunk is overly sour because the green sauce isn’t to his liking. Keith can get overwhelmed by people really easily, even his friends, and after several hours of talking and eating and carrying on and listening to music come in on Hunk’s radio, Keith’s starting to feel particularly introverted.

He rests his head on Shiro’s shoulder, eyes closed, pretending to be drunk or asleep because he knows nobody will bother him this way. He knows that Shiro knows he’s still awake, but he also knows that Shiro’s not going to betray his get-out-of-party-talk secrets. Everyone else thinks that Keith has this uncanny ability to sleep at parties, no matter how loud. They also think he’s a lightweight and a morning person, incapable of staying up past ten at night. Keith’s not about to reveal that and Shiro, the good man that he is, has never revealed the truth either. 

Shiro’s arm curls around Keith’s shoulders, cradling him close. Keith turns his head, snuffling against his neck. He smiles a little when Shiro drops a kiss to his temple. 

Blissfully, towards the end of the night, the Paladins fall quiet— the booze making them a little loose-limbed and, finally, relaxed. Keith’s eyes snap open and he whips up, terrified of the moment leaving.

“Woah—” Lance startles, clearly thinking Keith was dead asleep by now. 

“Shiro and I are getting married!” he rushes out because he sees Coran’s mouth open to say something, and he’ll be damned if he and Shiro don’t actually get to share their big news. 

Lance nearly spits his beer right onto Keith’s face when he sputters. Pidge gives a delighted hoot. Allura looks thrilled. Molly looks vaguely uncomfortable but claps politely. 

“Congratulations!” Hunk cheers, nearly sloshing his drink over himself in his effort to stand up and throw himself at Shiro and Keith. Hunk barrels right into them, arms tight around both their necks. Keith wheezes, somehow still managing to be surprised whenever Hunk hugs him.

Hunk isn’t the only one. Soon all the Paladins are piling onto them, sweeping them up in their arms and crowing their congratulations and well-wishes. Coran starts crying and flops against their backs, hugging tightly and shoving his nose right into the back of Keith’s neck, sniffling. Romelle claps louder than Molly and then dives in for the hug, too. Molly watches them but doesn’t try to hug Shiro and Keith, thankfully. 

“About time you made an honest man out of Shiro,” Lance says, whapping Keith heartily on the back once they untangle from their massive Paladin pile. 

Keith scowls. “What’s that supposed to mean?” 

Lance makes a lewd gesture. Shiro turns pink and then laughs. “Lance!” 

“So who’s going to wear the veil?” Pidge teases and then grins manically when Keith lobs a loose dumpling at her. She catches it in her mouth like a shark, cackling. “I call walking Shiro down the aisle!” 

“Oh—” Shiro says, laughing louder. 

“When are you doing it?” Lance asks. 

“Yes, when’s the date?” Allura asks, hands clasped together. Her eyes are taking on that shiny quality they always do whenever she’s particularly excited about something. 

“Where are you getting married?” Romelle asks. 

“Where the hell is your ring?” Lance asks, eyeing their hands. Keith curls his into a self-conscious clasp behind his back. 

The Paladins start throwing question after question at the two of them— where, when, colors, flowers, how many guests, who’s walking down the aisle, who’s giving Shiro away, where are their rings, what tradition or style are they going to do. It’s all a lot and Keith knows it’s because they’re happy for them and enthusiastic, but Keith feels the throb of a headache coming on.

He should have let Shiro deliver the news. Instead, he’d been too spontaneous again. 

That earlier fear from before they entered the house returns, a swell of anxiety rising within him. If he needs to give Shiro the perfect wedding, to _prove_ that he can do that for him, he’s utterly failed in the first steps of it. 

Shiro deserves the world. He deserves perfection. And Keith has to be the one to give it to him. 

Even their friends can see that, the lobbing questions brutal and unrelenting: each one pinpointing Keith’s first failure. 

“We haven’t decided any of that yet,” Shiro says, holding up his hand in a placating gesture, laughing. He squeezes Keith’s shoulder sympathetically. “We only got engaged last night.” 

It should be a balm. But Shiro’s understanding does little to settle Keith. 

“Awww, were we the first ones you told?” Hunk asks, beaming.

“We told our parents, but otherwise, yes,” Shiro says and accepts the massive pile-on of Paladin hugs all over again, drowning them in a chorus of _Awwwwww, you love us!_ s. And, well, Keith really does, even if he’s still getting used to all these hugs even years later. He hides his face in Shiro’s shoulder and holds on tight.

-

That night, once Shiro and Keith use the wolf to return home, Keith follows Shiro to the kitchen, spooning his back as Shiro cleans the casserole dish. Keith pets his fingertips over Shiro’s flat stomach and nuzzles between his shoulder blades, watching Shiro’s soapy hands slip over the dish, scrubbing with a sponge. It’s an easy movement, methodical and simple as Shiro cleans, rinses, and leaves the dish drying on the rack. 

“All things considered,” Shiro says once he’s finished, plucking up the dish towel to dry his hands before he picks one of Keith’s hands to bring up to his mouth, kissing his knuckles, “I think that went pretty well.”

“Definitely could have been worse,” Keith says with a jaw-cracking yawn. “But it also could have been better.” 

“It was fine,” Shiro tells him. He looks unflappable again and Keith continually marvels at Shiro’s apparently inability to be flapped. Nothing seems to bother him sometimes, even if Keith knows that there are plenty of times when that’s just an illusion. 

Keith hums when Shiro turns in his arms and leans down, kissing him once. Quietly, Keith admits, “Didn’t expect all those questions.”

Shiro chuckles. “They’re all things we’re going to have to think about.”

“Guess so.” Keith can’t recall thinking about flowers before in his life, really. Keith wrinkles his nose. “Have you thought about it before?” 

“What? Weddings?” 

“Yeah,” Keith says. “What you’d want for a wedding.” 

Shiro hums, looking noncommittal. “Not really. I just figure… whatever makes us happy, right?” 

“Right,” Keith says. “I— sorry. I should have put more thought into— into everything.” 

Keith clamps down on the wriggle of anxiety that squirms in his belly at the words. He’ll need to step up. But Shiro just hums again, kissing Keith’s palm. 

“It’s still early, sweetheart,” Shiro says with a dismissive wave of his other hand that he then tangles into Keith’s hair. He tugs once, sending a tingling sparkle of a shiver down Keith’s spine. 

But the anxiety won’t go away. It lingers, clawing up Keith’s throat. “Maybe we should have done, like… I don’t know. A party specifically for it.”

“You mean an engagement party?” 

“Yeah, that,” Keith says. “Would you have liked that? Should we have done that?” 

Shiro shakes his head, smiling. “Tonight was fine, Keith. Really. We don’t need to do anything fancy.” 

Keith squirms. “We should probably talk about this in more detail. Like… you should think about what it is you want for your wedding.” 

“Our wedding,” Shiro reminds him. 

Keith shakes his head. “Is there something you really want?” 

Shiro hums as he thinks, brow furrowing. Ultimately, he shrugs. “I’m not sure. We can think about that later,” Shiro says, kissing him again. “We have time.” 

It’s a brush-off, whether intentionally or not. Keith feels the sting of it. He’s always hated this sort of uncertainty, always hated not knowing exactly what to do when it comes to Shiro. Not having a definitive answer from him, about what he wants, leaves Keith feeling unmoored. 

“But—” 

“There’s no rush,” Shiro says again. “We can talk about it later, when it’s closer.”

Keith looks up at Shiro, frowning. But Shiro just smiles down at him, his eyes soft. His fingers curl and uncurl in his hair. 

Keith sighs. He trusts Shiro. He’ll have to trust they’ll talk about it more, too. It’s something he can work harder on. Something he can work towards. Something that will make Shiro happy. 

Shiro squeezes Keith’s hand, tugging him away from the sink and clicking off the kitchen’s light as they exit. “For now, it’s bedtime. I see you turning into a pumpkin right before my eyes.”

Keith wants to protest, but the phrase tugs an almost-laugh from him. He leans into Shiro’s side as they make their way towards their bedroom. He keeps leaning until Shiro takes the hint and pauses to scoop Keith up, carrying him the rest of the way. 

Keith loves that the most, sometimes— how gently Shiro holds him, like he’s precious. Shiro always knows what Keith needs. 

-

Keith wakes the next morning with a yawn, turning to cuddle into Shiro’s side rather than open his eyes. Shiro snuffles quietly, still half-asleep, and nuzzles into his hair with a sleepy, “Good morning, baby.” 

Keith loves the way Shiro says his name, but he especially loves the way Shiro calls him _baby_. Especially when his voice is sleep-warm and cracking with disuse like it is in the morning. Shiro sounds perfectly content, pliant and sweet beneath the drape of Keith’s body. 

Keith presses a kiss to Shiro’s clavicle and then his throat, and then rolls away to grab their PADD to check any messages. Shiro makes a sleepy protest when Keith leaves the warm circle of his arms, but Keith isn’t gone for long. He snags the datapad from the bedside table, then waits for Shiro’s hands to curl around him and drag him back to his side. 

“Clingy,” Keith teases.

“You love it,” Shiro says, mumbling it into Keith’s shoulder as he nuzzles. 

Keith most certainly does love it. He snuggles into Shiro, not bothering with the PADD for the moment, content instead to nose at Shiro’s shoulder and throat, sinking into his warm embrace. 

After a few minutes, though, Shiro repositions them so that he’s the one draped against Keith’s chest instead, his face tucked up against Keith’s neck. His breath is pleasantly damp against Keith’s skin and it makes Keith smile as Shiro settles anew, content to drift back into sleep. 

Keith’s never going to deny Shiro the chance to rest. He pets his fingers through Shiro’s hair with one hand and thumbs open his waiting messages with the other. 

_I’M SO SORRY,_ Romelle’s message says, with such a massive font size that Keith’s amazed the PADD lets it get that big. Keith blinks, his heart kicking up in spiking, instinctive alarm. There are a few messages from her and he reads through them quickly: _I’m so sorry, I seriously had no idea she’d do that!_

He reads through the others. _I don’t think she realized._

And, _I don’t know if you wanted it to be a surprise, but I’m really sorry Molly told the press!_

“Everything okay?” Shiro asks, mouth pressed to Keith’s pulse point and hand ghosting over Keith’s suddenly tensed shoulder. 

“I guess Romelle’s date told something to the press?” Keith says, frowning, as he swipes through the messages and pulls up a search menu. He doesn’t have to wait long to find what Romelle’s referring to.

Right on the front page of a major tabloid website, devoted to universal celebrities, is an announcement for Shiro and Keith’s wedding. _A source close to the happy couple_ provided the details, it seems. Keith doesn’t bother reading it, but does frown at the picture. They’ve snagged an old candid shot of Shiro and Keith together. Keith’s scowling, mouth open mid-word but Shiro looks casually and devastatingly handsome in a pair of sunglasses beside him. Keith seriously hates the photo not because Keith looks unflattering— who cares— but because Shiro has no right to be so gorgeous. It makes Keith want to cry over how pretty he is. 

“Well,” Shiro says, yawning, pressing his cheek to Keith’s as he skims through the reading and gives a light snort. “I guess we weren’t keeping it a secret. Just… that was fast.” He laughs again and reads, “ _The universe just lost two very eligible bachelors._ ”

“Ew,” Keith says with the deepest feeling. 

That just makes Shiro laugh louder, sitting up fully and plucking the PADD from Keith. He swipes through their messages and answers a couple quickly— he always could type faster than Keith— and then shuts the PADD down. 

“Does it bother you?” 

“No,” Keith answers, shaking his head. “It’ll make people gossip and all that, but I mean… it was bound to get out eventually even if we didn’t make any formal announcement.” He wrinkles his nose. “It’s not like any of those people reading that shit are going to be invited.”

Shiro snorts. “ _No news yet on when the Black Paladins will tie the knot, but stay tuned as we leak all the venue and date details._ ” 

“Stop!” Keith grins, shoving playfully at Shiro’s shoulder. “You’ll will it into existence.” 

“ _We have exclusive shots of the groom’s ass while he’s changing into his tux,_ ” Shiro continues, pretending to recite. He pinches Keith’s ass, making him startle. “ _And damn, can we just say Captain Shirogane’s lucky as hell?_ ” 

“Oh my god,” Keith laughs, shoving a pillow over Shiro’s face. 

They keep laughing and teasing each other about it as they get ready for the day and make their way towards VOP’s headquarters. 

They barely make it through the door before Romelle pounces on them, bounding to them as soon as she spots them. It seems she’s not content with just digital apologies. 

Keith holds out his hands to stop her as she nearly skids straight into them. 

“I’m really, really sorry,” she says, hands clasped together. She’s literally breathless from sprinting to them, letting Keith’s hands on her shoulders steady her. 

“It’s really fine,” Keith says and pats her back. She looks like a kicked puppy, big watery eyes and all, and Keith fights through his discomfort from being an unwilling source of her distress. He tries not to feel guilty as he pats her back. 

“I just really didn’t think she’d do that,” Romelle says. She wrings her hands together. “She says she didn’t realize it was a secret but… Anyway. No second date from me, that’s for sure!” 

“Was Paladin Dinner seriously your first date with her?” Lance ask as the others veer towards the three of them to eavesdrop on the commotion. “You gotta treat a lady right, Romelle.” 

Romelle pouts. 

“Fuck off, Lance,” Keith says on Romelle’s behalf. 

Keith feels the beginning of a headache. It’s barely the morning and he’s already feeling peopled out. He hates coming to work on a Sunday, and normally they wouldn’t, but it’s been a busy week and they need to catch up on everything. He’s already deeply regretting being unable to cuddle with Shiro for the entire day, being lazy in their bed. 

“Have you been getting calls from the news outlets asking for more details?” Hunk asks. He shudders. “Because that’s what woke me up this morning.”

Shiro frowns, looking concerned. “Oh—” 

“I didn’t say anything!” Hunk’s quick to assure.

“No, I’m just sorry that happened,” Shiro says. “They shouldn’t be harassing all of you.”

“They want us to comment,” Pidge pipes up from where she’s tinkering on the computer. She pushes up her glasses to rub at the bridge of her nose. “As if any of us give a damn about your relationship beyond being happy for you. It’s not our business.”

Keith’s always appreciated that about Pidge, and all their friends— the Paladins are happy for Keith and Shiro, but beyond that they let them be. Keith’s not sure how he’d handle nosy friends always reacting to Shiro and Keith holding hands or kissing, and he’s certainly glad they never ask obnoxious questions about their love life. It’d be downright creepy if they did. 

It's not like he’s constantly asking Allura about her love life with Lance, or Hunk’s dating attempts, or Romelle’s ever-growing list of humans she’s dating. There was the unfortunate incident last year when he had to bear witness to Coran kissing Iverson, and he will truly never forget that gruesome image, but otherwise he likes to think they all respect each other’s boundaries. 

“But, I mean… do you guys have a date?” Lance asks. “Not that we’re gonna tell anybody, but. You know. My mom asked because Veronica mentioned it and they want to know when to set aside time to attend.”

“Oh, uh,” Keith says, floundering. He’s not sure if there’s a polite way to say that he hadn’t even considered that Lance’s mom would want to come to the wedding— he envisioned something small, like just the Paladins and his and Shiro’s families. 

“We don’t yet,” Shiro says. He looks at Keith. “I guess it’s normal for people to pick anniversaries, right?” 

Keith stares at him. “… I mean. We met roughly in autumn, right? Do you know the exact date?” 

Shiro laughs and shakes his head. “No clue. I guess I could do some research to figure out.” He pauses, thinking. “And we got together in space... So, a little hard to guess what that translates to on Earth.” 

“I mean, I guess we moved in together after the war, which was in spring-ish, I think?”

“Yeah, I think you guys can just pick a random date in that case,” Hunk says, looking vaguely judgmental. He turns towards his station and elbows Pidge gently out of the way so he can sit down, too. It seems that’s the end of his input on the whole enterprise. 

Hunk and Pidge make quite the sight, banging their heads together to murmur through their problem-solving, the keys clacking as their fingers fly, typing in the necessary code they’re working on. Once they’re finished, Keith has no doubt their organization will have fully operational AI, but probably still no balanced books for fundraising. Which is what they’re _supposed_ to be working on. Shiro’s hefty “Surprise-You’re-Not-Actually-Dead-Here’s-Some-Backpay-And-Silence-Money”-fueled investment check can only take them so far, unfortunately. 

Keith nudges Shiro and smiles. He tilts his head up and accepts Shiro’s quick kiss before they part ways to do their work for the day. 

“See you later,” Keith murmurs.

Shiro smiles and kisses him one last time, just because he can. 

Keith tries to put the date out of his mind, but as he works, he finds himself returning to potential dates. His PADD buzzes in his pocket incessantly with phone calls and messages from reporters or busy-bodies. Keith finally mutes it and focuses on his work, his mind swept away with different dates. 

It shouldn’t bother him, but it feels like just another failure on his part. What kind of future-husband doesn’t even know his anniversary dates? Especially when he’s future-husband to Shiro of all people, who’s perfect and wonderful and deserves to know when his damn anniversary is. 

Keith sighs out through his nose, brow crinkling in frustration with himself. 

He’s not getting any work done. He gives up and pulls up the calendar on his PADD, thumbing through the different months and working his way back through the years, trying to figure out the proper anniversaries. It’s a fool’s errand and he knows it, but his anxiety brain isn’t going to let him drop it until he at least tries. 

By lunch time, he’s unsuccessful. 

When he meets up with Shiro for their break, he asks instead, “What about July fifteenth?” 

“What’s on July fifteenth?” Shiro asks, unpacking the lunchbox with their meals for the day. He unpacks the little containers and unsnaps the lid for Keith, setting out a nice arrangement Shiro made from the potluck leftovers— salad, hummus with homemade pita, some leftover dumplings Keith squirreled away in their fridge before leaving the house for the potluck, and Shiro’s rice pilaf. 

“Nothing,” Keith says, digging his fork into his food. “It just seems like a nice day. Summertime, middle of a month… I dunno.” He shrugs, watching Shiro unscrew the lid to their thermos, pouring them both cups of tea. “It’s the best I can figure without having to wait forever, right?”

“Makes sense,” Shiro agrees, taking a sip of his tea.

It’s a tempered response. Keith can’t help the way his heart wilts just a little in his chest at Shiro’s lack of enthusiasm. Maybe he should have worked harder to find their actual anniversary. 

“I can keep looking,” he says. 

“No,” Shiro says. “It’s fine. It works just as well as any day, right?” He smiles. “And it’s close enough that we don’t have to wait too long.” 

Keith nods. The uncertainty still coils inside him, waiting to burst out. But, at least, it is a day and it is a day that’s close. That’s better than nothing. 

Shiro’s smile is kind. He doesn’t look excited, but he doesn’t seem like he hates the idea, either. It’s a neutral response. 

“Are you fine with that date?” Shiro asks. 

“Unless you want to get married in April,” Keith says, still feeling a little glum. “To celebrate the anniversary of the first time we ever fucked.” 

Shiro chokes on his tea. He wheezes around a laugh, thumping his chest so he can breathe again. “… Did we have sex for the first time in April?” 

“If I had to guess, sure,” Keith says. He still feels a little glum, just a little stressed, but Shiro’s reaction is endearing at least. He’s always so cute when he blushes. He loves the way it climbs over his cheeks and settles on his ears. 

Keith eats his dumplings. He nudges his foot against Shiro’s under the table, sliding it up along his calf, both teasing and comforting. It’s as much an anchor for Keith as it is a tease. 

He tells himself that everything is fine. 

Shiro breathes out. “Alright… Then, July fifteenth it is.” 

Keith nods. Shiro gives him an indulgent look and then leans across the table. Keith darts forward to meet him halfway, slanting his mouth against his. It’s off-center and Keith has to swallow a mouthful of rice before he can properly return it, but when they pull back, Shiro’s smile is sweet. 

“Wow,” he says to Keith. “I get to marry you in July.” 

The change is instant— Shiro looks less neutral, less unconcerned. It’s the first time he’s expressed excitement about the date or even the idea of their wedding. It does wonders for Keith’s sense of equilibrium.

_He likes it,_ Keith thinks. _He likes me._

He’s done something right. 

He’ll make sure this wedding is perfect— make sure that he proves just how much he loves Shiro, just how much he can make him happy. 

He feels his own blush rising in the wake of Shiro’s sweet smile. He ducks his head to hide his answering look, staring down at his rice and feeling relief flush through him. 

“And we’ll need to figure out the venue, too,” Keith says.

“Outdoors, maybe?” Shiro asks. “We like the outdoors.” 

Keith feels a burst of excitement in his chest at Shiro’s suggestion. “Better than a building, sure,” Keith agrees, grinning as he peeks up at Shiro through his bangs. “Okay… Yeah. Yeah! Wow, I get to marry you in July.” 

-

“You can’t marry Shiro in July,” Lance says one hour away from the end of the workday. It’s the daily debrief meeting which means more headaches for Keith. As soon as Lance opens his mouth, Keith regrets mentioning the date to the group. 

Keith scowls. “What do you mean I can’t? Fucking watch me.” 

“You seriously expect that you can have an _outdoor wedding_ in _July_? In _Arizona_?” Lance asks, hands on his hips. “Are you crazy?” 

“We could have it in the morning or evening,” Keith protests because he doesn’t want to admit that, fuck, Lance is right about that. For once. 

“Also, July fifteenth’s a Tuesday,” Pidge says, swiveling in her chair to face them. “That’s kind of a random day to have a wedding, if you’re expecting people to show up— a lot of people will have to work or travel to get to you.” 

“Also, uhhh…. That gives you only three months to plan,” Hunk says, also turning in his chair with that same judgmental swivel as Pidge. “Not that the wedding industry’s necessarily _booming_ right now, I bet, but that still puts a lot of pressure on the timeline.” 

“I mean,” Keith says faintly, “We’re just going to do something small. Like, just you guys, right? We don’t need to make a big deal out of it.” 

“When was the last time you checked your messages, bud?” Hunk asks. “You’re crazy if you think that a bunch of people aren’t going to get involved.”

Keith feels his shoulders hitch up towards his ears. “We’re not—” 

But Shiro’s heavy hand lands just in time, squeezing once. He smiles at their friends and says, “So maybe not July fifteenth—” 

“No!” Keith interrupts. He’s sure his expression must be wounded as he looks up at Shiro. “It’s— we already decided.” 

Shiro agreed to the date. It was, Keith thinks, the first thing he’s been excited about. He doesn’t want to let it go so easily. He’s ready to fight for it. 

“Shiro,” he says. 

“It’s okay, Keith,” Shiro says. “It’s just a date.”

That much is true, Keith knows. But it isn’t about the date. Keith thinks of Shiro’s sweet smile as he’d drawn back from the kiss, the quiet, reverent way he’d said, _Wow._

And now Shiro has let it go so easily. 

“We’ll figure something out and we’re going to keep it small.” Keith wilts as Shiro looks back to the group. “We really appreciate all your insights, guys… obviously Keith and I don’t have a ton of experience with this.”

“Like they have any experience, either,” Keith says, feeling sullen. He feels ready for a fight. He jerks his chin towards Lance. “How many times have you been married, huh?”

“Excuse you,” Lance says, “I have siblings and cousins and nephews and nieces. I am the _king_ of weddings.” 

Just as Keith’s about to say something scathing, the door whooshes open and Allura enters the room with Coran in tow. She perks up when she sees Shiro and Keith, smiling wider. “Oh, there you are. Just who I wished to speak with.”

“What’s up, Allura?” Shiro asks.

“We’ve been out all day discussing logistics about the… what was it? Zoning permits,” Allura says. “The Garrison officials are finally being a little less…” She pauses, clearly searching for a diplomatic word for _assholish_ and coming up short. “Recalcitrant. But they did ask us to tell you to make your arrangements quickly to secure a venue on the compound.”

“Um, I’m sorry, what?” Keith says. “Why the fuck would we get married at the Garrison?” 

“Regardless of where you might get married,” Coran pipes up, eyes sparkling. “I’d be honored if you allowed me to help you. I might not look it, but I moonlighted as a wedding planner back on Altea-That-Was.”

“Oh, uh—” 

“Of course, we’d all be honored to help you,” Allura says with a warm smile. “That is, if you’d like us to.”

“We can’t imagine getting married without all of you,” Shiro says, squeezing Keith’s shoulder again, and, yeah, that much is true. Shiro always knows what to say. “We’d love if you’d all be willing to help.” 

“You can count me in for catering!” Hunk says. “If we keep it small, obviously.” 

“And my mom would definitely help with the flowers,” Pidge says. “You know Mom would _love_ to help you get married, Shiro.”

“Ha,” Shiro laughs, blushing. “Colleen’s very kind.” 

The other Paladins chime in with promises to help and suggestions. It’s an onslaught and Keith can’t quite describe the feeling simmering inside him. It’s been only two days into their engagement and already he’s lost control of the date, the venue, and the people involved. 

He knows he shouldn’t feel so possessive of the wedding, especially when the Paladins are offering to help, but Shiro’s easy acceptance leaves Keith feeling uncentered. It’s all in the early stages, he reminds himself, but it’s overwhelming. 

_Perfect,_ he reminds himself. _I have to make it perfect._

And he will. There is no one in the universe more stubborn than Keith, he thinks. Maybe Shiro. But when it comes to Shiro, when it comes to making Shiro happy, Keith can’t be stopped. Nothing can stop him. 

“Maybe September twenty-fifth,” Keith suggests later that night, because it adds a couple months to the planning and the weather will be better and it gives their guests time to travel or clear their schedules and it’s also on a Saturday. 

“Sure,” Shiro says and nothing more. 

It doesn’t deter Keith. He sucks in a sharp breath and lets it back out again, hands curled at his sides. 

He’ll show Shiro how much he loves him. He’ll make everything perfect. 

-

Saturday morning dawns bright and early, but it’s Keith and Shiro’s day to sleep in. They always have a relatively simple morning— the wolf can let himself out if he needs to and he knows to wait to ask for breakfast until Keith is willingly on his feet. Mid-afternoon, they’ll make Keith’s dumplings for tonight’s Paladin Dinner— hosted this week at Keith and Shiro’s— but otherwise, they have the day all to themselves to be lazy and relaxed. 

Or so they think. Keith’s only half-awake when he hears the doorbell ring. He grumbles and shoves his face straight into Shiro’s armpit. Shiro grunts in his sleep, mumbling something about bunny ears. 

The doorbell rings again.

“For fuck’s sake,” Keith groans, biting at Shiro’s sleep shirt. 

“Gonna be late for school,” Shiro sleep-murmurs, clearly dreaming and influenced by the sound of a ringing bell. 

The words wake Keith up more than the doorbell itself. He props himself up on his elbow to gaze down at his fiancé fondly— and feels warmed when he reminds himself that Shiro is his _fiancé_. Wow. He can get used to that.

The doorbell rings again, interrupting Keith’s sappy thoughts.

“Fuck!” Keith says again, muffled so he doesn’t disturb Shiro. 

He shoves off the covers and slams his feet into his slippers as he shuffles out from their bedroom. He’s prepared to murder whoever is ringing his bell so early, and especially repeatedly. He rubs the sleep from his eyes just as he grabs the knob and yanks the front door open.

“Finally!” Lance says, finger pressed into the doorbell. Even with the door open, he rings the bell again. Keith wants to throttle him.

But it’s not just Lance— it’s everyone. Lance and Romelle barrel past Keith and enter the home, dragging Hunk and Pidge and Coran along with them. Allura brings up the rear and gives Keith an apologetic look as chaos descends upon Keith.

“I told them that we should wait…” she says. “But Lance said that you two are always the first ones up, so it’d probably be fine.” She cringes, taking in Keith’s sleeping attire and death-warmed-over expression. “I suppose we were incorrect in that assumption.”

“It’s fine,” Keith says with a yawn, as if to punctuate the point. “We usually are.” 

It's true that Shiro and Keith are usually the first up among the group— they’re natural early-risers, aside from their Saturday sleep-ins. By contrast, it’s typically an hours-long chore to wake the other Paladins up. He _knows_ that Hunk has at least five alarms set and there’s still a fifty percent chance he’ll sleep through them all. Keith can’t recall the last time he’s seen any of the Paladins up before ten in the morning.

“Come on in,” Keith sighs, shaking his head. “Thanks for trying to corral them.” 

Allura gives Keith an indulgent smile and follows the loud shouting towards the kitchen. The Paladins have commandeered Keith and Shiro’s kitchen table, spreading out massive binders of information, fabric samples, and pressed flowers. 

Keith is vaguely alarmed. 

“Did a flower shop explode in here?” he asks, unable to hide the incredulity in his voice as Pidge starts throwing dried flowers onto the table from a bag. He’s not sure how that’s productive at all. 

He’s only glad he shut the bedroom door behind him to spare Shiro from this terror. He knows his fiancé will show up soon enough, though, especially since everyone is _loud._ It’ll be impossible for Shiro to sleep through it all. 

Sure enough, it takes only a couple minutes before Shiro comes wandering into the room, scratching his stomach and looking deliciously disheveled. He hasn’t combed his hair and his eyes still look sleep-soft. 

Keith is smitten. He’s not ashamed to admit that his smile is dopey as he watches Shiro blink a few times at their crowd of friends and then turns to Keith with a yawn, a question in his eyes. 

“Glad I put on pants before I walked out here,” Shiro says, low enough that the others won’t hear. 

“A tragedy, though,” Keith says, giving him a purposeful, playful once-over. “Covering up your thighs should be a crime.” 

Shiro laughs, curling his arm around Keith and drawing him in closer. 

“Are they finally staging a coup to get your dumpling recipe?” he asks, accepting Keith’s good morning kiss. 

Keith hums, indulging in kissing Shiro, his morning breath be damned. He rolls his eyes once they part, though, swiveling in Shiro’s hold to look towards the Paladins. “Guys, why the fuck are y’all here so early?”

They all pause and look up at them. It’s Coran who answers with a twist of his mustache and his sage reply: “Today is the first Slaturday—” 

“Saturday,” Pidge reminds him.

“ _Saturday_ of your wedding planning,” Coran corrects without missing a beat. “Time is of the utmost importance!” 

Shiro looks subtly startled and Keith recognizes the wariness instantly— Shiro is, after all, a veteran of Coran’s particular intensities and Keith knows he’ll never forget the Voltron Show fiasco. Keith rubs his back in sympathy. 

“So?” Keith asks. He yawns and stumbles to the coffee maker to start brewing a large pot for the team. He pours in a liberal amount of beans into the grinder and starts cranking.

“So,” Coran says, “We need to start early and start right if we’re going to give you both the wedding you deserve.” 

Keith pauses mid-crank, a frown pinching his mouth into a thin line. He can’t even explain the twist of annoyance that rises in him. But it’s there and he feels it. He’s not sure how he feels about the Paladins co-opting his wedding.

“And Coran and I were thinking,” Allura says gently, “that this will prove to be such a good opportunity for the Voltron Organization for Peace.” 

“Yeah,” Lance crows, “We gotta bop up this VOP!” 

It’s a catchphrase he’s desperately trying to get started. The Paladins all ignore him. 

Keith tries to keep his voice level. “So, you’re saying we should invite the whole Coalition to our wedding.” 

Shiro did give everyone the open-invitation to help. He knows it isn’t something so metaphorical as Shiro not trusting him with planning, but any sleepiness Keith felt evaporates as he cranks the coffee grinder a little aggressively. 

“I’m not saying that, necessarily,” Allura says. “But, Coran and I felt… Well, it might be an excellent way to boost morale across the universe. To show that, with time, with peace, with fortitude and hard work, we can all live the lives we were meant to live— without the shadow of war and the Empire eclipsing us.” 

It sounds like a speech she’s practiced in the mirror. But then again, Keith has no doubt that Allura genuinely believes the words— with her, when she says it, it never sounds like artifice. Keith knows if he tried to say something like that, he’d sound corny and stupid. But that’s just one of the many things that Keith admires about Allura, admittedly: how she can inspire almost anyone to anything.

And it’s not like it’s a bad idea, really. It’s maybe difficult for Keith to picture that something like his and Shiro’s wedding could be _inspiring_ , but it’s a nice sentiment. 

“If we incorporated traditions from other Coalition planets… that could be a nice gesture,” Allura says. “If any of our allies offered as much. We’ve already heard from Ryner.” 

Keith finishes grinding the beans, trying to collect the right words that could deny Allura her request without insulting everyone. It’s his job to give Shiro the perfect wedding, after all. 

“That could be really interesting,” Shiro says, his eyes twinkling, stopping Keith in his tracks. “I’ve never considered what wedding traditions might be like on other planets.”

He looks _excited._ Keith feels himself slip into high-alert when he recognizes the sparkle to Shiro’s eyes, the small little quirk of his smile. 

Suddenly any urge Keith felt to deny Allura her request dissipates. 

Of course Shiro would be interested in the idea— he loves to learn new things and he wouldn’t deny himself the opportunity to learn more about anything, even something mundane like wedding celebrations. If it also promoted peace and helped their organization, all the better. 

It's been a long battle to get VOP off the ground. Keith knows as well as anyone how hard Shiro’s working, and how quick he’ll be to jump on a chance to improve their organization’s standing. 

Keith throws the ground coffee into the maker. That, too, is maybe too aggressive a gesture but no one calls him out on it or even seems to notice. 

The maker chirps to life, water bubbling as it percolates. He looks up from it as Shiro leans his hip against the counter next to Keith, smiling at him with a small, questioning tilt to his head. He’ll follow Keith’s lead, the look says. 

“Keith?” he asks, but there’s a hopeful lilt to his voice. 

Shiro still looks excited by the prospect. Keith can see it. And if it means making Shiro happy, Keith’s not about to let an opportunity pass. 

He’ll do anything if it means making Shiro happy. 

“Sure,” he says, gripping the counter and trying to keep his tone neutral. “If people offer. As long as we’re not taking shit that’s sacred or anything.”

Shiro grins, delighted. Keith’s heart soars. 

“We could see what there is for Galra traditions, too!” Shiro says and Keith seizes onto the suggestion again— he’ll take anything that Shiro suggests and make it reality. 

He wonders if his mom might have suggestions for Galra traditions. He’s always looking for ways to expand his knowledge on his heritage. All that time on the space whale, and they never really did talk about weddings. Not that Keith would have brought it up, even with the barrage of all his memories with Shiro on full display for two years. His mother, too, was overly kind— she never mentioned it, either, even if her expression was always a little _too_ knowing in the wake of one of Keith’s memories.

The day he told his mom that he and Shiro were in a relationship, she’d only nodded and said, _Of course you are._ And then, of course, _I’m happy for you, Kit._

“Fantastic!” Allura says, her eyes bright and smile sweet. She looks absolutely delighted for them both and that at least helps Keith feel less weird about all the attention. “I’m sure it’ll create a great buzz across the galaxy!” 

“And you should see what the tabloids are all saying right now without that part,” Pidge laughs from the table where she’s currently eyeing the coffee machine with no small sense of longing. Keith starts grinding more beans. 

“What are they saying?” Shiro asks but sounds like he really, really doesn’t want to ask. 

“Keith’s changing his identity,” Hunk says. “So quick wedding to change his name.” 

“It’s a publicity stunt to get the Paladins back with the Garrison,” Romelle pipes up. 

“You two just want more attention because you feel nobody’s talking about you enough,” Lance says. 

Keith cringes at each one. “What the hell?” 

“They’re speculating on what designer you’ll wear for your wedding. Did you guys know there are still designers working and producing haute couture clothes even this soon after the war? Lots of _we survived a dystopia revolution_ aesthetic,” Lance says. “Like, paper cups and scrap metal dresses.” 

“We’re not wearing any designer,” Keith grumbles, glancing quickly at Shiro to make sure he doesn’t look crushed by Keith’s answer. “And no scrap metal dresses. That’s stupid. Who can afford haute couture?”

“I bet people would donate if you asked,” Hunk says. “The chance to dress the Black Paladins for their wedding? They’d come running.” 

Keith rolls his eyes. He turns back to the coffee maker and focuses on that as the Paladins start talking about ideas at the table. Pidge is apparently the notetaker, typing out all the suggestions, but Keith mourns for whatever shorthand she’ll use or what she’ll deem is necessary to write down. He can’t imagine they’ll come out of this meeting with any sort of salvageable notes. 

Maybe that’s for the best, though, if it means Keith’s not going to have to wear a scrap metal dress to his own wedding. 

He glances over at Shiro again, who still looks sleepy but at least a little more present. He’s listening, at least. Keith studies his expression, looking for any sign that he likes or dislikes what he’s hearing. 

Shiro tilts his head when he catches Keith’s eyes, a question sparkling there. But Keith doesn’t really know what to say. Really, he doesn’t even know how to express what he’s feeling, the dual feeling of annoyance but that need for reassurance. 

Whatever his expression is doing, it urges Shiro closer. He curls his arm around Keith’s shoulder, holding him close as they wait for the coffee to brew, watching their friends get overly excited about their wedding. 

“They’re cute,” Shiro says idly. 

Keith pauses. “I guess.” 

Shiro smiles and presses a kiss to Keith’s temple. It’s a sweet gesture that makes Keith blush despite his stubbornness. 

“Are you alright?” Shiro asks in a murmur, low enough that the others can’t hear. 

And Keith doesn’t really know the answer to that. Even if he did, he doesn’t really know how he’d say it. 

“I’m okay,” he says.

“You don’t look happy,” Shiro says. It’s not anything insisting, just an opportunity for Keith to share. 

Keith turns his head, burying it against Shiro’s shoulder. Shiro makes a sound and squeezes him close. 

“I’m okay,” Keith says again, willing it to be true. “Just— people.” 

Shiro chuckles and kisses the top of his head. “You don’t need to stay if you don’t want.” 

Keith shakes his head, squeezing tight. “I’m part of the planning.” 

He pulls back from Shiro to glance back over at the Paladins, watching them lob ideas between themselves. Shiro rubs a slow circle at the back of Keith’s neck with his thumb. 

Keith leans back into that feeling, reassured, always, by Shiro’s presence.


	2. Chapter 2

The week is chaos, a flurry of meetings and paperwork and zoning permits and a collection of other fiascos. There are times when Keith legitimately worries that his brain is going to start leaking out from his ears. 

Really, considering the trajectory of his life, Keith never expected this would be his biggest headache: getting some damn Garrison officials to sign some damn zoning permits so he and his family can build their damn headquarters for their humanitarian organization. 

Mostly, Keith resents that he’s the one who has to call the officials about it. But the Paladins literally drew straws and Keith’s was the literal short straw. (He appreciates that Shiro offered to switch with him, but Keith’s unwilling to let Shiro suffer through the Garrison nonsense anymore than he has to, not after everything they’ve put him through.) 

Regardless, he cosmically understands Shiro’s frustrations with bureaucracy. After piloting sentient lions in space, answering to no higher power, it’s a little difficult to come back home to paperwork and red tape. 

Keith kind of wants to just suggest they build their headquarters anyway. Ask for forgiveness, not permission. 

“But we can’t have anarchy,” Shiro says when Keith mentions the idea. 

He says it but also rolls his eyes, like maybe a small part of him still wants to be a rebel in this, too. His brow pinches and he looks cute, like he’s ready to tackle the world but also ready to pout. 

“You’re cute.” Keith punctuates the statement by kissing the tip of Shiro’s nose. 

Shiro rolls his eyes again and tugs Keith in for a proper kiss. Keith chirps in surprise but quickly returns it. The kiss is sloppy and off-center and Keith loves it. 

The kiss veers towards dirty— Shiro licking into his mouth with a quiet, promising groan— half a second before Keith’s PADD cheeps a meeting reminder about coordinating humanitarian relief on the planet Xhiru. 

Keith sighs, breaking the kiss and bumping his forehead to Shiro’s as he hands off the PADD with all the paperwork. “Good luck with all the zoning crap.” 

“Good luck with all the food goo canisters,” Shiro says back. He tugs Keith down again and kisses the corner of his mouth, smiling. “You’re amazing.” 

Keith’s done nothing to warrant the praise, but it still makes Keith feel a little floaty as he heads to his meeting. 

All things considered, it’s not a difficult meeting at all. He’s heard the horror stories of Allura’s meetings and certainly he knows firsthand the headaches Shiro gets whenever he has to be diplomatic with frustrating individuals. Keith still knows not even to think the name Slav in their house. 

Keith knows he’s lucky. The universe has long accepted that his particular brand of diplomacy is just blunt honesty. Keith doesn’t really know how to talk in circles, lie, or subterfuge with words. He’s starting to suspect that diplomats actually like dealing with him because he’s guaranteed not to bullshit. 

It's a strange point of pride, but Keith will take it. 

By the end of the meeting, he shakes hands with the Xhirusian and doesn’t even flinch at the strange sensation of their slightly slimy hand or the pucker of suction cups against his palm. Just another quirk of universal diplomacy. 

“Pleasure doing business with you, Paladin,” they say. 

“You too, ambassador,” Keith says and finds that he means it, gesturing to escort the ambassador to their waiting caravan outside. “I hope you have safe travels back to Xhiru.” 

“We’re used to the journey now,” the ambassador says with a small nod and smile. “And my team and I will be back soon enough. We’re excited to be attending your upcoming wedding.” 

Keith blinks in surprise, a blush rising on his cheeks. “I— oh. I?” 

He nearly stumbles on the steps leading down to the hangar. The ambassador reaches out and gently steadies him, suction cups plucking at his elbow. 

“Ah, thanks,” Keith says. “We, Shiro and I… we, uh, we were just going to have a small ceremony, actually.” He holds his breath, unsure if he’s just blown any good graces with the ambassador and offended them instead. 

The ambassador blinks in surprise but doesn’t seem offended. They merely tilt their head, intrigued. “Oh? Is that typical of your planet?” 

“It’s typical of Shiro and me, I guess,” Keith says. “We wanted to keep it to close friends.” 

“In my clan, it’s tradition to invite any and all peoples regardless of status or personal relationship with those being wedded,” they say. They tap their finger to their chin in thought, still looking more thoughtful than insulted, which Keith considers a relief. “As you two are all over the universal news, I guessed it would be such an affair. It’s my mistake for assuming my own culture on others, though.”

“Ah, no, you’re fine,” Keith says, and resumes their journey down the stairs. It’s a relief to pass through the narrow passageway and open into the hangar. He heads towards the ambassador’s ship. “I mean, there are plenty of humans who have big weddings, too. It depends on the person.” 

“You are not an expert,” the ambassador guesses.

Keith sighs in relief. “Definitely not.” 

He’s not sure what else to say, standing there feeling awkward as the ambassador prepares their ship for boarding. 

“Fascinating,” the ambassador says, easily picking up the halted pause. There’s a reason they’re a diplomat, Keith thinks. “And your husband-to-be is equally interested in a smaller ceremony?” 

“Shiro? Yeah,” Keith says. “I’m pretty sure? He sometimes likes big parties but usually likes smaller things.” 

As soon as he says it, he doubts. Shiro’s an introvert who can masquerade as an extrovert pretty easily, and he’s always been good with people and public speaking. But Keith knows that Shiro views that very much as a matter of diplomacy rather than a natural inclination. 

But a wedding is different. Even if Shiro can be a private person, he’s human— he likes his moments of attention and revelry and fun. He can command easily. Maybe he wants a big wedding. Maybe he’d rather have a massive undertaking than a small get-together.

He'll need to ask him. 

“Regardless, then,” the ambassador says, interrupting Keith’s thoughts, “congratulations on your nuptials. In my clan, it is always a momentous day to find your soul’s companion.”

“Oh,” Keith says, smiling now at the thought of Shiro as his _soul’s companion_. He’s definitely blushing now. He tucks an unruly piece of hair behind his ear, looking down at his feet with a dumb, smitten smile. “Yeah. Yeah, we’re really happy.” 

_Soul’s companion._ That’s what Shiro is to him. He can only hope that Shiro feels the same about him. 

Satisfied, the ambassador nods their head and boards their ship with one final goodbye to Keith. Keith waves after him, unsure what to make of the swirl of feelings within him. 

-

“Should we have a big wedding?” Keith asks Shiro later that night as they’re preparing dinner together. The pot is steaming, the shallots sweating and ready for the vegetables. 

Shiro pauses, ceasing his unhurried carrot chopping to look up at Keith. Keith can’t read his expression. 

It makes Keith fumble. “The Xhirusian ambassador today thought they were going to be invited to the wedding. It’s, uh, apparently traditional for them to have big weddings in their clan.”

Shiro tilts his head. He takes a moment to speak, considering the words. “We can invite the ambassador if you want.”

It’s not quite what Keith was getting at. 

“No, I mean,” Keith says, “I don’t really know them. I just meant, what if we offend someone by not inviting them? Like, if we’re looking to incorporate traditions from Coalition planets, wouldn’t it be kinda shitty to not then invite them, too?” 

Shiro frowns. “I guess it’s a possibility that someone might be upset, but if that’s enough to get them to cause a diplomatic incident, do we really want them at our wedding?” 

Keith sighs, slumping and pressing his hands against the counter. They’re one week into planning, but barely have any sort of definitive plans, and already Keith feels uncertain. Shiro’s hand finds his back, rubbing gently along the curved line of his spine. He kneads the back of Keith’s neck when he reaches it and it makes Keith relax, if only a little. 

“Do you want a big wedding, though?” Keith asks again, waiting for Shiro’s definitive answer. 

Shiro hums, focusing on the journey his hand takes up Keith’s spine. “I don’t mind,” Shiro says at last, “if that’s what you want.” 

It’s definitely not an answer. Anxiety squirms low in Keith’s gut. He knows Shiro is stubborn— if Shiro isn’t giving an answer, it’ll be like blood from a stone to get him to actually say what’s on his mind. 

Shiro’s gotten better about sharing his thoughts with Keith, at least. But even with him, sometimes, Shiro keeps everything clamped down tight. 

“We’ll make a list of people we want to invite, and we can ask Coran and the others what they think,” Shiro says with a shrug. “Who knows, maybe it’d be a good idea to have a big party? We could keep the ceremony small and invite everyone to the reception? I think that’s something people do.” 

“Maybe,” Keith says. He asks again: “Is that what you want?” 

“We could also record everything,” Shiro says with a laugh, dismissive and joking. “Release a video for anyone who can’t make it.” 

“That makes us sound like damn celebrities.” 

“Honey,” Shiro says with an amused smile. “We _are_ damn celebrities.” 

“Ugh,” Keith says and hangs his head. Shiro circles his thumb against the back of his neck, digging in deep enough to make Keith tremble. “Oh. That feels nice.”

He really doesn’t want to be distracted, but Shiro’s touch always is. Shiro kisses one of the knobs of his spine. Keith can feel the ghost of his smile against his skin. 

Keith turns and slings his arm around Shiro’s waist, tugging him in closer. 

“Which would you prefer?” Keith asks again. “Big or small?” 

Shiro’s eyes glitter. “It’s not the size of the boat, baby, but the—” 

Keith covers Shiro’s mouth, laughing despite himself. “ _Shiro._ ” 

“You gave me the opening,” Shiro says against Keith’s palm, which comes out more muffled and pouty. Damn it, but Keith loves him so much. It’s a little embarrassing sometimes just how much. 

“Oh. I’ll give you an opening alright,” Keith says and grins when it makes Shiro laugh and waggle his eyebrows. 

Keith doesn’t swoop up for a kiss but Shiro presses one to the crown of his head anyway. He squeezes Keith tight, swaying back and forth. Keith would think it was nice if he didn’t think Shiro was purposefully making a _size of the boat, motion of the ocean_ kind of joke with the tilting back and forth. 

Regardless, Keith sighs, relaxing in Shiro’s arms the way he always does whenever Shiro is near. Even when Shiro is being ridiculous or refusing to answer his questions, it’s Shiro. 

Shiro always can set his mind at ease. 

“And anyway,” Shiro says, “we both know the whole point of a wedding is to just get drunk and have wild newlywed sex. Size of the party doesn’t matter, just the end result.” 

Keith sputters, jerking back to cast Shiro a stunned look. 

“What?” he asks, laughing. 

Shiro grins down at him. “You heard me. I’m going to bite that tux right off your body.” 

Keith giggles and shoves at Shiro’s shoulder. “Be serious!” 

“I’m _very_ serious, Keith,” Shiro says. “I plan to take my first task as a new husband very, very seriously.”

“Oh is that right?” 

“Very,” Shiro says, promising. “Going to ruin you for all other men.”

Keith _snorts_. “That ship sailed a long, long time ago, Shirogane.” 

“Still plan to overachieve with the best of them,” Shiro says with a wink. 

Keith hums, eyes dipping to half-mast as he tugs Shiro a little bit closer. He fumbles behind him, flipping the stovetop burner off before he drags his hand down Shiro’s very broad, very lovely chest. 

“You could give me a preview, maybe?” 

“Thought you’d never ask,” Shiro answers, grinning and hauling Keith up into his arms.

-

It’d be fine, Keith thinks, if Shiro dodging questions about the wedding were only once in a while. But as soon as Keith notices it, it’s all he can see: all the ways Shiro _doesn’t_ answer Keith’s questions. 

_Whatever you want, baby,_ Shiro says when Keith asks him about colors. 

_Which do you like best?_ Shiro says when Keith asks him about flowers. 

Keith doesn’t really understand anything about wedding planning and he feels out of his depth. But it feels all the worse when Shiro shrugs, every time, and says, _We can worry about it later, right?_

At night, while they’re lying in bed together, Shiro’s expression completely smoothed out with sleep, Keith can’t help but study him. He touches his fingers along Shiro’s jaw, tracing downward. Shiro snuffles in his sleep, turning his head, seeking Keith’s touch even in slumber.

Really, Keith knows he doesn’t deserve Shiro. He’s always known that, since the day Shiro found him in that old classroom. He’s known it since then, too— through all the desert races, all the launches into space, all the battles, all the fights, all the near-misses. 

His fingertip ghosts the scar over Shiro’s nose. Shiro snuffles again. It’s been a hard-won battle for Shiro to sleep peacefully through the night. Sometimes, the nightmares still get him. 

_It’s because I know I’ll wake up to you in my arms,_ Shiro told him once, utterly sappy and besotted. But it’d made Keith’s heart feel like it was going to burst. 

He doesn’t doubt that Shiro loves him. He knows that. He knows it cosmically. He doesn’t doubt that Shiro would move heaven and earth for him. He knows that Shiro wants him to be happy.

And that’s precisely why Keith knows that Shiro is too good for him. He’s always known that Shiro is way out of his league. He’ll spend the rest of his life, he knows, making sure that he can be worthy of Shiro. 

Despite the gentleness of Keith’s touch, though, Shiro is a light sleeper. Keith strokes his thumb over his cheekbone and that’s enough to rouse him. He snorts, his deep breathing cutting off in a little hitch. Keith withdraws his hand in time for Shiro to blink his eyes open, seeking Keith instantly.

“Mm,” Shiro says, sleep-soft and husky. “Baby?” 

“Go back to sleep,” Keith says, settling in closer. He touches Shiro’s jaw, scratchy with a stubble he’ll shave away in the morning.

“Are you okay?” Shiro asks. 

“I’m okay.” 

He kisses Shiro, just the lightest peck, to punctuate the point. Shiro makes a sleepy little murmur of pleasure, eyes already falling shut again. His arm curls around Keith to pull him close to him, his touch a brand at the small of Keith’s back. 

Keith hums, relaxing in increments beneath the pleasant weight of Shiro’s arm. Shiro’s eyes are closed, but his thumb swipes in a slow circle at one of Keith’s back dimples, soothing and almost playful. 

“You’re thinking loudly,” Shiro says. 

“Am I?” 

It’s a dodge, but Keith thinks he’s earned at least one dodge of a question, considering Shiro’s made it his masterclass lately. Shiro dips his head down, seeking Keith’s mouth even with his eyes shut. He’s gotten pretty good at doing that, kissing Keith with perfect accuracy. Keith sighs, squirming closer and kissing him gently. 

“Do you need to talk about it?” Shiro asks, opening his eyes again, that familiar grey warm in the dark. 

“I’m not really sure how to put it into words yet,” Keith says. Shiro nods, accepting the answer. He knows what Shiro would say if he were to say he doesn’t deserve Keith: _Of course you do._ Or, _it isn’t about deserving, Keith._

Shiro always knows what to say. But maybe a small part of Keith doesn’t want to say it, doesn’t want to receive that reassurance and be reassured. He doesn’t deserve that, either. 

It shouldn’t bother him, seeing Shiro’s casual indifference to their wedding. It isn’t about the wedding, he reminds himself, even if every time Shiro shrugs it feels like he’s shrugging away Keith himself. 

Shiro deserves a perfect wedding, one that’s exactly as he wants it. If Keith can’t give that to him, he can’t give him anything. He knows he shouldn’t use this wedding as a way to prove how much he loves Shiro, but he can feel the ways he’s doing just that. 

“I’m here,” Shiro says and kisses him. “Whenever you’re ready to tell me.” 

“I know,” Keith says. He lifts his hand, laying it gently over Shiro’s eyes. “Go to sleep. You have that meeting with Slav in the morning.” 

Shiro shudders. “Oh, fuck. Don’t remind me.” 

It makes Keith laugh, tracing his fingertips down the slope of Shiro’s perfect nose. Shiro’s eyes are soft as he looks down at Keith, and it’s the tender look that always makes Keith feel gooey on the inside, like he’s perfect and improbable. 

“I’ll give you the world,” Keith vows. 

Shiro’s mouth twitches with a delighted smile and he kisses Keith’s fingertips once they skim past his mouth. He squeezes Keith in tight, hand splayed against his lower back. 

“You already have,” he says. 

Keith nods, although he can’t quite accept the words. He kisses Shiro one last time, murmurs for him to go to sleep, and holds still until Shiro’s eyes start to droop again. 

-

Keith finishes making a massive batch of coffee just in time for the Paladins to arrive for their Saturday morning Wedding Planning Session. Keith silently mourns the lost weekly sleep-ins with Shiro, but Hunk helps the sting of it when he unwraps a container of freshly baked scones for their breakfast. 

The entire group gathers around the table, datapads and papers spread out between them. It’s controlled chaos, as everything with the Paladins always tend to be. It's so much like a typical brainstorming session for VOP that Keith can nearly convince himself that they’re discussing humanitarian efforts rather than color schemes and napkins. Keith really, truly does not give a shit about color schemes. He doesn’t really think Shiro does, either, if his neutral response to Coran’s questions are any indication. 

“I don’t see the difference between slate grey and marble grey,” Shiro admits and flinches when Coran squawks in startled disappointment. Shiro takes a gulp of his coffee, casting Keith a pleading look over its rim. 

Sadly, Coran is not something that Keith can save his fiancé from. He cringes in sympathy. 

“Who the hell wants grey for their wedding anyway? Isn’t that sad?” Keith asks, drawing Coran’s fire away from Shiro. 

“Grey is the color of happiness in Altea-that-was,” Coran says with all the profound disappointment he can muster as he regards Keith. 

Romelle perks her head up, tilting her head. She looks the sleepiest out of the whole bunch, listing to the side and nearly knocking into Pidge, who stoically accepts her presence as she types away on her PADD. 

“Is that not the case for humans?” Romelle asks. 

“It’s really not,” Hunk says around a mouthful of scone, spewing crumbs across all of Coran’s outlined notes. 

“Regardless,” Allura says, interrupting and pinging their PADDs with a new update. “I’ve forwarded the list of individuals who have contacted us with requests for incorporated traditions.” 

“That was fast,” Keith says.

“The response was… enthusiastic.” 

Keith flips open the list and his eyes bug out. “That many?” 

“It seems many are very excited to be part of the Black Paladins’ wedding,” Allura says, scanning over the list with an approving nod. “Truly, this turn-out is better than we expected.” She smiles. “It seems our friends are far-reaching…” 

Keith can indeed recognize some of the names on the list from their travels as Voltron and now as their humanitarian organization. He’ll never admit it out loud, but he feels a little squirmy down in his belly thinking about all the good they’ve managed to do, how they’ve made a lasting impression. It’s good. They’ve done good. 

For the first time, Keith’s pleased by their choice to do this— that reaching out to others can, maybe, bring some hope. He never thought before that anybody could give a shit about another person’s wedding. He hardly cares about what other people do when they get married. 

“So, we look through the list and pick what seems cool?” Keith asks. Keith already digs the first item on the list: _Sword fighting._ He can sword fight with Shiro no problem. It’d be sexy. And he thinks Shiro would get into it, too— display even a glimmer of interest in the proceedings. In Keith. 

“Maybe you can incorporate some more Earth traditions, too,” Pidge says around a mouthful of scone. “Like, represent all of Earth as best you can.” She swallows and wipes her mouth. “We have some silly things in our family that would be _hilarious_ to see you two do.”

“Hilarious?” Keith asks, voice wry. “Are we a standup routine, Pidge?” 

Pidge sticks out her tongue and doesn’t deny it. 

“Oh, or you could do what my parents did,” Hunk says.

“Or mine!” Lance pipes up. 

“Or,” Allura says, clasping her hands together, her expression hopeful. “I… You see, Coran and I didn’t want you to feel that you needed to, hence why it’s not on the list, but…” She takes a steadying breath. “Keith, Shiro, we’d be honored if you incorporated some Altean traditions as well.” 

“Oh,” Shiro says, hushed.

Allura turns her head to smile at Coran, and then to Romelle, who nods at her, sitting up a bit straighter despite the sleepiness in her eyes. Allura is quiet for a moment and it’s with some dread that Keith realizes it’s because her eyes have gone misty, voice wobbly, and she’s taking a moment to collect herself. 

Lance’s hand cups her elbow, gentle and understanding without words, and it seems to steady her. 

Allura takes a deep breath. “We thought that the knot-tying ceremony in particular could be… very powerful.” 

“We’d be honored,” Shiro says immediately. Keith nods his head. It’s not even a question. 

Allura nods back, smiling sweetly as she clasps her hands over Shiro’s. She looks overwhelmed again and Keith feels the pit of his stomach drop away. But Shiro’s smile is gentle, far too kind as he always is, as he turns his hands and squeezes Allura’s hands. 

“We’d love that,” Keith insists. And then blushes when Allura reaches for his hand, too, squeezing it. He’s still not used to being touched beyond Shiro, still a little startled every time he’s reminded that the Paladins actually like him.

He thinks his smile must be too wobbly when he squeezes Allura’s hand back, but he can tell by the way Shiro’s looking at him that he’s proud of him. 

Keith clears his throat, dispelling the quieter mood that’s descended upon the group. 

“All of you, too,” Keith says to Hunk, Lance, and Pidge. “If you want us to do something you can add it to the list, too.”

Pidge claps her hands and hoots, ready to shatter the melancholy and jostling Romelle from her shoulder. “Hell yeah. Can’t wait to see Keith try to bite a garter off Shiro’s thigh.” 

“Um,” Keith says with the deepest emphasis. 

Shiro’s smile is wicked when he says, “How do you know he doesn’t already?” 

Pidge hoots again and throws a piece of scone at Shiro. Shiro catches it mid-air with his mouth, looking overly triumphant and smug when Pidge pouts. 

Keith doesn’t want to admit it’s hot. 

So instead he says, “Add things to our list and by next meeting, Shiro and I will narrow it down to what we want to include.” 

-

Shiro and Keith don’t get a chance to look at the list, newly updated with Paladin suggestions, until several days later. Shiro looks haggard every day, returning from his meetings and work feeling overwhelmed and over-worked. Keith _knows_ that Shiro overworks himself, but Shiro hardly ever acknowledges or admits to it, much less makes any effort to cut back. 

“Are you okay?” Keith asks when it’s the third night in a row that Shiro returns home looking like he’s been bowled over. 

“Just… tired.” 

There’s no one person who’s caused Shiro this fatigue, other than Shiro himself, which is just frustrating to Keith: there’s no one he can threaten with his blade to ensure that people leave Shiro alone. Keith knows that if he were to corner everyone working with Shiro and threaten them to leave his fiancé alone, Shiro would just be mortified, embarrassed, and angry with Keith for meddling. For babying him. 

But the urge is always there for Keith— he has to take care of him. He has to make sure he’s safe and protected.

Mom once told him that it was a Galra instinct made manifest. His unyielding loyalty, his protectiveness for one specific person. He’d explained it to Shiro once. 

Shiro had only laughed, voice soft, and said, _Isn’t that just a Keith thing?_

It’d made Keith feel warm at the time. But since then he’s had to tamp it down at times. The last thing he wants is to make Shiro feel like he’s lesser or needs to be coddled. 

Shiro is the strongest person Keith knows. He’s just terrible at taking care of himself. 

Keith scoots over on the couch and pats the spot beside him. Shiro trails over to him and drops down into that spot easily, slumping to the side and into Keith’s waiting arms. 

Keith curls his arms tight around him and squeezes, sighing out and nuzzling into Shiro’s hair. 

“Only tired?” Keith presses. “Nothing else?” 

“It’s been a long week,” Shiro says, sighing out. “It’d be fine if it was just work. I can handle that.” 

Keith makes a soft sound, unwilling to bring up the age-old discussion that, really, Shiro should be cutting back some of his hours and taking his lunch breaks. 

“But then everyone also keeps asking me about the wedding,” Shiro says, head dropping to rest against Keith’s shoulder. “And then they get all… judgmental when I don’t have more information. I think I should be doing more planning or something.” 

“Who?” Keith asks, anger rising up in his chest, sharp and brittle.

It makes Shiro laugh, though. He turns his head and kisses Keith’s neck. “No one specific, baby. It’s okay.”

“It’s not,” Keith says. “If they’re harassing you and _judging_ you, I’ll kick them out a window.” 

He’s half-serious, but Shiro laughs again like it’s a joke. He turns his head with a hum, kissing up Keith’s neck. It makes Keith shiver, tightening his hold around Shiro’s shoulders. 

“My protective baby,” Shiro sighs, worshipful and unbearably sweet. He tips his head back enough to meet Keith’s eyes, his expression fond and less exhausted. “Always sweeping in to save me.” 

“I’ll always save you,” Keith says. Shiro’s smile grows and it makes warmth squirm low in Keith’s gut. He tangles his fingers in Shiro’s hair, pinning it away from his face with a frown. “Say the word, and I’ll hunt them all down.”

“I know,” Shiro says. “You always go above and beyond.” He leans in and kisses Keith before he can say anything, smooth and lingering, his hand cupping Keith’s chin to draw him close. Once they part, Shiro swipes his thumb along his bottom lip. “But I promise I’m fine. Just venting. Please don’t murder anyone.” 

Keith huffs. “If you change your mind—” 

“I will sic my murder fiancé on them all, yes,” Shiro says. 

The words are a joke, but it makes Keith shiver anyway. Fiancé. And it’s clear Shiro knows exactly what he’s done if the slow unfurling of his smile is any indication, teasing. 

“I’m sorry they’re being judgey,” Keith says as Shiro settles beside him, arm curled around Keith’s shoulders to tug him in close. He rests his head against Shiro’s chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart. 

“I know,” Shiro says. “Me too. They just don’t get we’re going at our own pace.” 

A snail’s pace, if Keith’s being honest, considering they set their wedding date relatively soon. And Shiro’s still resisting giving opinions on anything. 

“There’s nothing wrong with being flexible, anyway,” Shiro says. “People think it’s weird that we don’t have set-in-stone plans. So what if we don’t have any set goals for our wedding?” 

“Yeah,” Keith says. He presses his ear down against Shiro’s chest, listening to his heartbeat. “We’re getting married. That’s all that matters, right?” 

Shiro grunts, head dipping down to nose into Keith’s hair. He nuzzles there for a moment before he slowly starts to relax, his shoulders easing. 

“Exactly,” Shiro says. “I really don’t care.” 

Keith is quiet, his lips thinning into a line. He tries to focus on the gentle, comforting weight of Shiro all around him, the sound of his breathing, the steady beat of his heart, his smile in the dark mop of Keith’s hair.

_I really don’t care._

It’s not that he doesn’t care about Keith, he reminds himself. Shiro loves Keith. He knows that. He’s not going to be some weirdo projecting onto the wedding like it isn’t some stupid party. 

He can’t believe it’s even an issue he has to remind himself of. Never, in a million years, would Keith suspect that he’d get too invested in a goddamn wedding. 

“I guess people say that to me, too,” Keith says. “That it’s odd we don’t have… more of an opinion.” 

That much is true. Despite Keith’s determination to give Shiro the perfect wedding, he doesn’t have too many goals himself. 

Lance had been particularly judgmental about it this morning. But it’s Lance and Keith has long since learned to tune out his opinions. 

“Ha,” Shiro says, a soft exhale. “We’re only a few weeks into this and I’m already tired of it. Is that bad?” 

Keith’s heart wilts. He strokes his fingers along Shiro’s clavicle, just for the sake of touching him. “We’re asked to do a lot of planning and coordinating as is… it makes sense that planning a wedding would—”

“Feel like a chore?” Shiro asks.

“Yeah.” 

They settle into silence like that, cuddling together on the couch. Keith’s PADD is left on the table, the list of non-human traditions waiting for them. But for now, Keith contents himself in holding Shiro close, and being held by him. 

He tries to focus on that, not the way Shiro’s words swirl inside him. 

“Baby,” Shiro says after a moment. “ _You’re_ not a chore.” 

Keith startles. Shiro’s hand kneads into his shoulder. “I—” 

Shiro smiles and Keith feels himself sigh out, some tension easing from his shoulders that he hadn’t even realized was there. Of course Shiro would notice, though. Shiro is always so attuned to him, even more than Keith is himself. 

“You’re never a chore to me,” Shiro says. 

Keith feels himself relax, surging up to kiss Shiro quickly. Shiro makes a sound and then kisses him back, cradling his cheek in his hand. Slowly, so slowly, Keith melts into his arms, reassured and held gently in Shiro’s arms. 

“You don’t have to do anything,” Keith says once they part. “I’ll do everything.”

“I’m not doing that,” Shiro says immediately. 

Keith shakes his head. He pets his fingers through Shiro’s hair, brushing it away from his face. “This day is supposed to be perfect. I don’t want you to have more stress leading up to it.” 

Shiro scoffs, so softly, and wraps his hands around Keith’s waist, tugging him in closer so that he’s just sitting in Shiro’s lap. Keith’s more than happy to flop against him, looping one arm around his neck and nuzzling against his temple. 

“I’ll take care of you,” Keith says, promising.

“Baby,” Shiro says, laughing. “You always do. But I’m not leaving this to you alone.” 

“I know what you like,” Keith says. 

“I… I feel like I should have more of an opinion, maybe,” Shiro admits. 

“You have more important things to deal with,” Keith says, squashing down the anxieties within him, all the fears he’s felt bubbling up. None of that matters. What matters is taking care of Shiro. 

Shiro snorts. “You know most people would say a wedding is pretty important.” 

“Most people are stupid,” Keith says. “It’s just a wedding.”

“It’s our wedding, though,” Shiro says.

“I could marry you in a cardboard box and it’d still be perfect and romantic because I was marrying you.”

That much is true, too. Despite Keith’s worries about giving Shiro the perfect wedding, that much he knows for certain: he could marry Shiro anywhere and in any way and it’d be prefect for him. 

But Shiro deserves the world. Keith’s prepared to pour everything he has into this wedding planning if it means giving Shiro a wedding he’ll love, one that he’ll care about. 

“As if we can afford a cardboard box as our venue,” Shiro jokes and laughs as Keith kisses him. His chuckle tapers off into a pleased sigh as Keith licks into his mouth, sucking on his bottom lip.

“So… leave it to me.”

“I’m not going to leave it to you.”

“I will fight you,” Keith says. “And I’ll win.”

“We fight better together,” Shiro says with a wink. He squeezes Keith’s waist. “Please. Let me help you, too?” 

Keith’s not willing to relent so easily, but he can set the battle aside for now. He plucks up the PADD from the coffee table and waves it. “We could go through our list, then.” 

“Alright,” Shiro says. “Let’s see this list.” 

Cuddled up on the couch together, they scroll through the long collection of ideas, flagging the ones they like— Altean knot-tying, Olkari jumping decorations, Terran wedding parties. They flag a few things to look into on a deeper level to see how they can incorporate it, like Galran traditional dress and Canvurti wedding vows. 

The descriptions to each listed item are brief, so it’s difficult to tell what, exactly, they might be signing up for, but the longer they look through the list, the more excited Shiro seems. Keith will count that as a win. 

“This is kind of cool,” Keith admits half an hour into the first read-through. “I guess I never thought about how this kind of stuff would be— different.” 

“What, are you saying you don’t want to have a traditional marathon sex ritual in the middle of our wedding?” Shiro asks, tapping on item number sixty-seven. 

Keith sputters, ears turning red. “Well—” 

Shiro laughs louder at Keith’s faltering and nearly gets shoved off the couch for his troubles. The wolf looks up from where he’s lounging on the floor, casting them a disapproving look before huffing out in a wolfy sigh and going back to sleep. 

“Ugh,” Shiro says once they get to item seventy. “I swear to god if Slav insists I have to wear certain socks—” 

“He’s not going to the wedding,” Keith says quickly, crossing off Slav’s suggestion. “I promise. I’ll fight him with the traditional sword-fighting ceremony to protect you.”

“My hero,” Shiro says with a shudder. 

Keith frowns down at the list. 

“What’s wrong?” Shiro asks.

“I just… there isn’t much Galra stuff here,” Keith admits. “I, um. I don’t know. Maybe I should incorporate more? I mean… I _am_ Galra.” He flounders. “Would that be too weird? If this whole thing is about promoting peace and I’m doing Galra traditions—” 

Shiro cuts him off with a solid kiss. Keith melts into his hands, instantly soothed. 

“It’s part of who you are, Keith,” Shiro says. “If you want more Galra traditions in your wedding, then that’s what we’re going to do.”

It’s the most reassuring thing that Shiro could have said, his smile sweet as he looks at Keith. Only at Keith. 

Keith nods, reassured. “I can talk to Mom, then.” 

-

“Hmm,” his mom hums the next day when Keith video-calls her with his request. “The Galra don’t have set traditions for marriage.” 

“Really?” Keith asks.

“We have some,” Krolia says. “But weddings aren’t traditional. Our emphasis is on the mated pairs bond… Occasionally we’ll hold a ceremony to mark that union, but not in the way I understand humans do.” 

Keith considers the words and then nods, accepting them. He crosses his arms, a gesture he realizes mirrors Krolia’s stance perfectly. 

“I guess that’s kind of how Shiro and I feel in general… We’re getting married but the wedding isn’t as important to him,” Keith says. “But I— um. I want it to be perfect for him.” 

“And not yourself?” his mom asks, in that gentle way of hers— not pushing Keith in one way or another but wanting to understand. 

“I don’t really care about weddings,” Keith says. “For me, at least. I just— it’s Shiro’s wedding and he deserves it to be perfect.” 

“It’s both your weddings,” Krolia says. 

Keith waves his hand. “Yeah, I know. But— Shiro’s big into romance, you know? He’s going to get really mushy the day of. So it has to be exactly how he wants it or else it won’t be good.” 

“Keith,” his mom says. 

“But I mean… I thought it’d be— nice. To have some Galra traditions, too,” Keith says, wringing his hands together. “Since we’ll have everything else. Shiro thought it was a good idea. So.” 

Krolia smiles as she tilts her head, something soft and understanding in her look. She doesn’t elaborate on the thoughtful hum she sighs out, but after some consideration she says, “Well. I can tell you what I know… certainly some of the traditions of a mated pair will translate to a Terran ceremony.”

Keith perks up. “Yeah?” 

“Of course, Kit,” Krolia says. “Although some of it might not translate properly. I don’t believe you or Shiro are much interested in fighting the ancient beast _Ververk_ and presenting your mate with its severed head.” 

Keith snorts out and starts laughing, body shaking as he ducks his head and shakes it. “No, no, I don’t think that quite works for a wedding.”

He thinks Shiro would probably be torn between sympathy for the beast and turned on by Keith’s casual display of strength. But Keith can show off his strength in other less devastating ways. 

When he looks up at Krolia again, her expression is far too fond. It looks so much like Keith’s face that sometimes it stuns him to know just how open they both are, just how easy it is to read his mom’s expression. He’s sure it must be the same trying to read Keith’s, too. He flushes beneath her warm gaze and feels himself smiling back at her in answer.

“What?” he asks.

“I’m happy for you, Keith,” Krolia says, her voice gentle and her eyes warm despite being fuzzed out by the video screen. 

She looks like she wants to say more. But in this, she’s much like Keith, too— struggling to find the words to convey what she’s feeling. But it’s okay. Keith knows what it is she wants to say. His mom saw all those memories on the whale, after all. She knows exactly what it means to Keith to be here now, to be engaged to the man he loves more than the entire universe. 

Keith shakes his head. “Ha. Thanks. I’m happy, too.” 

“As you deserve,” Krolia agrees. “It’s…” She pauses. Neither of them are quite used to overtly emotional interactions. Keith knows that Krolia wants to be openly affectionate with him, the same way Keith wants to be with her, but that they’re still navigating what that means for them, even so many years of knowing one another now. 

Keith can’t help it. A lot of the time, when he watches the way Krolia looks at him, he can only think that she’s longing for a younger him, to get a do-over with something better than an adult son. He knows it’s an uncharitable thought, for both his mom and for himself. He’s said as much to Shiro. Shiro, of course, always knew exactly what to say to make Keith feel better. 

_Sweetheart, who could ever be disappointed in knowing you?_ Or, _Keith, you are perfect._

Keith wants that to be true. He has to keep trying. 

“It’s what?” Keith prompts when his mom trails off.

“It’s good to see you so happy,” Krolia says, her smile light. “To see you secure in the person you are.” 

“Ah,” Keith says and feels himself blush, smiling stupidly. “Y- yeah. Yeah.” He fumbles over the words, his heart beating a steady staccato in his chest. “I feel like it’s a lot to do with Shiro, but… I mean. You too, Mom.”

It’s the right thing to say. Krolia beams, the same way she always does when Keith calls her ‘mom’. 

Keith thinks about mentioning the anxiety boiling inside him. He doesn’t care about weddings, but he cares about making Shiro’s wedding good. He wants Shiro to be happy. He wants to give Shiro everything he wants and more. 

He knows Shiro isn’t great about saying what he wants, actually putting voice to the things he wants, the things he desires, what he’s thinking. He’s getting better at telling Keith, but sometimes it’s like pulling teeth with him. 

Keith knows it’s self-pressure he’s putting on himself to make their wedding _perfect._ But he feels it. Shiro has given him so much, always gives him so much— the least Keith can do is prove that he’s worthy of Shiro, prove he can give Shiro everything he could ever want and more. 

Maybe it’s a Galra thing. Maybe it’s just a Keith thing. Providing for his mate, making his future husband happy.

Being worthy of his future husband. 

“So,” Keith says, blushing still and voice a little thready. “Traditions?” 

“Traditions,” Krolia agrees, looking equally as pleased. “I suppose the best thing to consider is the Ritual of the Kla’vok.” 

“Tell me all about it,” Keith prompts and settles in, PADD open to take notes.

-

“I thought about it,” Shiro says that Friday night as they set out the blanket for their traditional sunset-watching, hoverbike still radiating warmth behind them as its engine cools down from the trip.

Feeling chilled— summer isn’t quite here yet, after all— Keith cuddles into Shiro’s side and waits for him to drape the second blanket over their shoulders, wrapping them up tight together. 

“Okay?” 

“Traditions I’d want to include, for sure. From my family, I mean,” Shiro says.

“Oh!” Keith perks up, his heart bursting up into his throat. He’s sure he must look absurd, but he can’t help it— Shiro so rarely explicitly states what he wants outside of their bedroom. “What did you decide?” 

“It’s—” Shiro pauses, biting his lip. “Okay. You don’t have to agree—”

“We’ll do it,” Keith interrupts.

It makes Shiro laugh, like Keith’s telling a joke. Keith’s unwilling to admit that he actually means it. Whatever Shiro wants, Keith will do it. 

“I convinced my mom to hunt down my grandfathers’ rings… I, um.” Shiro pauses, blushing, as if afraid that Keith would reject the very idea. “I thought they could be ours now. We’d have to get them resized and polished up, but I think my Grandpa’s would work really well for you and my grandfather’s for me.” 

“Yeah,” Keith whispers. He scoots closer into Shiro’s space, smiling. “That’s perfect, Shiro.”

“Really?” Shiro asks. His smile is shy, and Keith wonders just how long Shiro’s sat on this idea, just how much he’s wanted to present this idea to Keith but terrified about doing so. 

Keith cups Shiro’s cheek, stroking his thumb gently. “Really. What else?” 

“What else?” Shiro asks.

“You’ve thought of other things, right?” Keith insists. “Tell me?” 

“Well…” 

“Go on.” 

“I thought… for a venue, ah.” Shiro gestures around them, the landscape stretching far and gentle from them, sunset-warm and bright with colors. “Why not out here? It’s an important place to us and we talked about wanting it outside.” 

“Yeah,” Keith says. Even if he weren’t prepared to do anything to make Shiro happy, Keith finds that he loves the idea of being out here. It’s their spot. It’s always been their spot. “And— and we could… We could wear our colors.” 

Shiro lifts his eyebrows, grinning. “Our colors, huh?” 

“Black,” Keith says, stroking the hair away from Shiro’s face. “And red.” 

Shiro laughs, his eyes unbearably soft. “Black and red. Our colors.” 

Keith can’t hold back his smile, thumb a gentle sweep across Shiro’s cheekbone. “And we’ll wear your grandfathers’ rings and we’ll get married out here. It’ll be perfect. I’ll make sure it’s perfect.” 

“It’s going to be perfect because I’m with you,” Shiro insists.

Keith shakes his head, pushing Shiro down onto the blanket and straddling his hips. He leans down, kissing the breath from Shiro’s lungs, determined more than ever to give his future husband everything. The world. The universe. Every little tiny desire he could hold in his heart. All of it will be Shiro’s. 

They’re so distracted they miss the sunset entirely. 

-

“So, good news and bad news,” Lance announces the next morning. He’s already slammed through half a pot of coffee which Keith thinks is definitely the bad news. The worse news is once that caffeine hits him. He can barely handle Lance as is, much less a hyper Lance. 

“What’s the good news?” Shiro asks, eyes on the wringing and jittery shake of Lance’s hands, undoubtedly also concerned about their friend’s coffee levels. 

“Good news,” Lance says, “is that you both have a great list of stuff to put into your wedding. Really, excellent taste, proving you’re not completely hopeless.”

“Gee, thanks,” Keith says in a deadpan. 

“The bad news,” Allura says gently and far more diplomatically than Lance, “is that we can’t let you do the Dhekto wedding circle.” 

“Why not?” Shiro asks with a frown. 

Keith feels his frown deepen in turn. Shiro had really liked the idea of the Dhekto wedding circle. He’d seen the way his eyes lit up seeing it on the list, one of the few things to actually get an enthusiastic response from him. 

“If you do the Dhekto wedding circle, you must include the Annuh toasting circle,” Allura says. “They’re neighboring planets and it’d be… ill-advised to favor one over the other.” 

“Oh,” Keith says, waving his hand. “That’s not a big deal. We can do the toast circle, too.”

“That’s just it,” Allura says. “It’s… This isn’t something I anticipated but, really, we can’t have you pick and choose these. It’ll— cause an incident.” 

“What?” Shiro asks. 

“If it appears we’re favoring one culture over another,” Allura explains, “that could cause some tensions with our allies.” 

“So we just won’t do any, then,” Keith says with a shrug. “Stick to the human traditions and some of the Galra things my mom told me about.”

“Uh,” Hunk says, piping up from the stovetop where he’s busy pressing some paninis for an early lunch. “Guys, you can’t, like… only do Galra things. Isn’t that really bad taste?” 

“Shiro and I are human! And I’m part Galra!” Keith protests. “How is it bad taste if we’re doing the traditions from cultures we’re actually part of?” 

Shiro catches Keith’s hand and kisses his knuckles. It should help soothe Keith but all it really does is make Keith feel like a failure. He should be providing more for Shiro. He’d been so excited about some of the traditions on the list. 

“We can do the knot-tying, too,” Keith adds, remembering Allura’s request. 

Allura frowns, arms crossing. “Keith, that isn’t sensible. Hunk is right— choosing only an Altean tradition and Galra traditions would seem like an insult to our allies after we took the time to ask for this list.” 

“So,” Shiro says, squeezing Keith’s hand before Keith can say anything else. “Let’s do all the traditions, then.” 

He says it so casually, but the statement is met with a stunned silence. Hunk turns away from his panini press to give him a wide-eyed look. Lance bounces from foot to foot. Even Pidge looks up from her computer to give him an incredulous look. 

Allura looks the most incredulous of them all. “ _All_ of the traditions, Shiro. Really?” 

Shiro shrugs. “How hard can it be? We can do small nods to all our allies. We don’t have to do anything elaborate but we can make sure we include everything. That should make everyone happy, right?” 

“I suppose,” Allura says, still not looking entirely convinced that Shiro’s suggestion is a sane one. Keith really can’t blame her. “It might take some arranging to… determine how we might do it all, but I believe it could be possible.” 

“We’ll need to check the list to make sure nothing interferes with another,” Shiro says. “Look for alternatives if so— these can’t be the only traditions each planet has. It could work.” He looks up at Keith with an apologetic smile. “And it could be fun, right?” 

“I guess,” Keith says. “You always did love a challenge.”

And it’s true that Shiro’s eyes are glittering. It’s the most animated he’s seen him in a while, what with work this week wearing him down. Aside from the enthusiastic sex the night before out at their spot, Shiro tends to fluctuate between politely tired and utterly exhausted. 

Now, though, he looks excited. 

Shiro’s smile is secretive when he whispers to Keith, “I sure do.” 

Allura clears her throat politely. 

“Let’s go with that, then,” Keith says, his cheeks feeling warm. He turns back towards their friends, eyeing their cups. “Who besides Lance wants more coffee?” 

-

The next few weeks are much the same— organizational work for VOP on the weekdays, wedding planning on the weekends. Keith’s exhausted one month in and still feeling that strange unrelenting _need_ to give Shiro the perfect wedding. 

If anything, it’s gotten worse. 

Their schedules are blocked off for the next few weekends— planning at the kitchen table with the Paladins as usual, but also meeting with dignitaries and diplomats for their traditions. Keith needs to learn a traditional Ste’tids dance he’ll present to Shiro before their vows and Shiro needs to learn the Ihai Carol of Good Fortune to yodel to their guests before the exchanging of rings. 

They have a meeting with Allura later next week for fittings of their traditional garb, the first of three clothing changes they’ll need to do before, during, and after the ceremony. They have three for the reception, as well.

Keith’s lost track of what he’s supposed to be deciding, what he’s supposed to be doing, what he’s supposed to be looking forward to. About midway through the month, when Shiro was looking similarly overwhelmed, Keith shoved the wedding booklet into Coran’s hands and barked, “You figure it out for us, okay?” 

It wasn’t so much a command as a begging for mercy. Coran was, of course, more than happy to oblige. 

Now Shiro and Keith get mid-week updates, ordered in a little list, about what’s changed and what’s on tap for them that week. It’s a headache and far more work than Keith ever expected it be. 

“Okay. Wedding party,” Hunk says that Saturday morning. He’s made pancakes today, the kitchen full of the sweet scent of butter and maple syrup. Keith’s shoveling them into his mouth like a man starving and to give his hands something to do. 

But, really, Hunk’s food is addictive. Keith’s still not used to having authentic maple syrup, either, but Hunk spoils them. 

“What about it?” Keith asks, still chewing. It makes Hunk flinch in disgust. 

“Who’s going to be in your wedding party,” Hunk elaborates in that voice that means he thinks Keith’s an idiot for not realizing what he means. He’s nice about it, but Hunk can be extremely scathing. 

Keith rolls his eyes and swallows his pancake. “You guys, duh.” 

“Yeah, no duh,” Pidge says, currently cutting her pancake into small, perfectly symmetrical triangles. “Do you even know anybody else?”

“I know people,” Keith protests, but Pidge isn’t really listening.

“He means, who specifically for which one of you?” Pidge says. “We can’t be best men for both you and Shiro.”

“Why not?” Keith asks and does not pout. He thinks it’d be kind of funny, and it’d be the most appropriate considering how in each other’s pockets they all are. 

Shiro laughs, sneaking a bit of Keith’s pancake from his plate and popping it into his mouth. The fork lingers against his lip in a painfully sinful way. Keith kind of wants to lick his mouth but refrains since they’re surrounded by their friends. 

“Do you have something in mind, Pidge?” Shiro asks. 

Pidge shrugs and starts eating her cut-up pancakes. “Not really.” 

“So I’ll take Hunk, then,” Keith says. An easy enough decision. 

“Oh, goodie, we’re picking teams,” Lance says, utterly deadpan. 

He’s been stuck at the sink for the last few minutes, trying in vain to wash his sticky fingers free of excess maple syrup after he drowned his pancakes (and made Hunk cry over the wasted cost). He punctuates his sarcastic statement by flicking his fingers, dripping water everywhere, and turning to give Keith a withering look. 

“Why does Hunk get picked first, anyway?”

“Because I’m the most fun,” Hunk says, flipping a pancake with his spatula, catching it, and slipping it onto Shiro’s plate. 

“It’s not a competition, guys,” Shiro says, scolding. He’s smiling though, clearly amused by their antics. He waggles his eyebrows as he cuts into the freshly flipped pancake and takes a bite. “And Hunk’s bribing us, clearly.” 

“I’m going to be picked last,” Lance moans, covering his face with his wet and sticky hands. “I just know it. Don’t tell me. Don’t let me hear!” 

Shiro’s mouth twitches, the way it always does when he wants to laugh at Lance but doesn’t want to hurt his feelings. He has far more restraint than Keith ever has. Plus, Shiro also just genuinely thinks Lance is funny, which Keith is never going to understand. 

It's clear that his pity for Lance wins out when Shiro asks, “Lance, would you like to be my groomsman?” 

Lance looks like he’s going to burst from happiness, the way he rips his hands from his face and grins at Shiro like Shiro just offered him the world. He even flings himself forward, wrapping Shiro up in a hug. 

Keith eyes Shiro’s nice sweater, now covered in sticky-wet fingers as Lance paws at him. Shiro laughs though, far too kindly, and pats him on the back. He does look pleased with himself, though, shooting Keith a wink over Lance’s shoulder. 

“And Allura?” Shiro says with a smile, tilting his head to look over at her. 

Allura beams back. “I’d be delighted, Shiro.” 

“So, nobody cares that I just got picked last, huh?” Pidge says rhetorically. She doesn’t look too upset by it, though, lifting her hand to fistbump with Hunk. “Team Punk supporting Groom Keith, heck yeah.” 

“And Coran officiating, of course,” Shiro says with a nod. Coran looks thrilled, twisting his mustache. 

It’s the easiest decision they’ve made so far. Keith breathes a sigh of relief. 

“Wait!” Allura says, shattering that moment of peace. “Lance and I can’t both be with Shiro. It’s bad luck to have a couple on one side of the party.” 

“What?” Keith asks. “Since when? Isn’t it worse if the couple is separated?” 

“No, good plan,” Lance says, finally untangling himself from around Shiro, wiping his hands on his pant legs. “If I’m standing next to Allura in her dress, I’m not paying attention to you two shmucks.” He blows a kiss to his girlfriend. 

Keith’s mortified to see her laugh, catch it with her hand, and press the imaginary kiss to her cheek. It’s so revoltingly cute that Keith despairs for the stoic strength he’s always associated with Allura. Her tragic flaw, he figures, has to be that she gets mushy for someone like Lance. 

“Fine,” Keith says, popping the last piece of his pancake into his mouth. “I’ll take Hunk and Lance, then.” 

“You can’t have two guys and two girls with Shiro,” Hunk says, finishing making the pancakes and turning off the stove. He leaves the griddle to cool down. “It’d be asymmetrical. I bet that’s bad luck, too.” 

Keith groans, tipping his head back and staring up at the ceiling. “Fine, why don’t you guys tell us how you should be organized, then?” 

“Well, you two are the heads of Voltron!” Lance says. “So, you should both get an arm and a leg. So, Pidge and Hunk with Keith and me and Allura wi— wait.” 

“Guys… there’s no way to set up the party so it’s boy-girl on both sides, couples are separated, and we have an arm and a leg each,” Shiro explains kindly, pointing out the obvious in that perfect, handsome way of his. Keith’s still kind of fighting the urge to lick his mouth even as this conversation veers towards tedious and headache-inducing. 

“This is the stupidest conversation we’ve ever had,” Keith says. “I feel stupider talking about this. How about Shiro gets Coran, then?” 

Shiro laughs, smiling over at Coran. “I wouldn’t mind having Coran as my best man.”

“I could write a devilishly good speech for you, too,” Coran says with a wink, lifting his hand to squeeze Shiro’s shoulder. 

“Okay, who wants to be with Shiro and who wants to be with me, then?” Keith asks. 

“I call Shiro!” Lance crows. He smirks, waggling his eyebrows. “Two handsome guys on one side of the aisle? We’ll make all the church ladies swoon.”

“We’re not doing an aisle,” Shiro reminds him. “Or a church.” 

“Let’s just do Pidge and Lance with Shiro, Hunk and Allura with me, then,” Keith says. He waves his hands. “End of discussion. I have a headache.” 

“I won’t have to wear a dress, right?” Pidge asks. “I can get a tux, right?” 

“The symmetry—” Hunk bemoans.

“I can wear a— a tux as well?” Allura asks. “I’m uncertain what that is, but I’d love to wear one, to help with the symmetry.” 

“Yeah, fine, whatever,” Keith says. “Coran’s figuring that all out. Right, Coran?” 

“That I am,” Coran assures. “Which brings us to the next decision— guest list? We’ll need to invite guests soon, especially your off-world guests.” 

“My parents and Krolia, of course,” Shiro says instantly. 

“All of you,” Keith adds.

Lance plucks up the mini-pitcher with the warmed maple syrup, apparently going for round two and dumping it on his new stack of pancakes. “Yeah, obviously. We’re in the wedding party.” 

“Fuck off,” Keith says, watching Hunk’s mortified expression as he regards Lance’s maple syrup lake on a plate. 

There’s a long pause. 

Lance starts laughing. “Do you seriously not know anyone else but your parents and us?” 

“Well, we do want to keep it small,” Shiro says, cutting off whatever scathing thing Keith was about to say.

“Romelle,” Keith adds. “And whoever Romelle’s dating at the time… you know she’s going to bring a plus one.” 

Since Molly, Romelle’s gone through at least two other girls. Keith has no doubt she’ll be up to date number twenty by the time the wedding rolls around. 

“And Kolivan?” Keith adds, breathing out when Shiro nods his agreement. “A few other Blades, too.” 

“And I guess we should invite some of the crew to the Atlas. At least bridge crew,” Shiro says, tapping his chin in thought. He frowns. “I hope the rest of the crew won’t be insulted…” 

“You can’t only invite humans and Blades,” Allura says. “It might be… complicated.” 

“Hrngh,” Keith grunts. “Okay. Ryner? Uhh… a few of the other dignitaries, I guess.” 

“Our families?” Lance asks. 

“Your families are human,” Keith says and frowns. “And your families don’t really know us, do they?” 

“I’ve never been to a wedding without my family,” Lance admits. 

“I mean, it could cheer them up a little. And if I’m doing catering, having my family to help would be good,” Hunk says. He plucks the empty pitcher of maple syrup from Lance’s hands and retreats quickly before anyone can ask for more. 

“I mean, you’re inviting my family, right?” Pidge says. “It’d be weird to invite mine and not everyone else’s.” 

“Families are important,” Allura says in a quiet voice, her hand on Coran’s shoulder.

“You’re all right,” Shiro says. “And if I’m inviting my bridge crew, that means Veronica is coming. It wouldn’t be right to have Veronica and Lance there without everyone else.” 

“And you can’t invite Veronica and not Acxa,” Lance says. “Although I suppose Acxa would be Veronica’s plus one, anyway.” 

Shiro types out all the names onto the list. A list that’s steadily growing past their specified _close friends and family._ Keith tries not to frown at Iverson being on the list. But, he is part of Shiro’s bridge crew. 

“You should probably invite Ryan. Uh, Kinkade,” Hunk says, blushing a little as he wrings his hands. “I mean… Uh. I mean, he might be my plus one anyway, if all goes well, but—” 

“But if we have Kinkade and Veronica, we should extend invitations to the MFEs,” Shiro finishes, writing out their names on the PADD’s list. 

Keith sighs deeper as Griffin’s name types out just below Iverson’s. The universe is testing him. 

“And I guess if we have Olkari and Alteans and Galra, we’ll need to invite the other members of the Coalition, too,” Keith says. “It’s only fair, right?” 

“Right,” Shiro says with a nod, clicking away. He leans back, scrolling through the list— far longer than either of them really intended, Keith’s sure. “That’s not too bad.” 

It’s too long a list, Keith thinks silently but doesn’t say. He crosses his arms. 

“I guess,” he says. “I could make the invitations. I mean… I could design them?” 

He’s been getting more into portrait work lately, but he’s pretty passable at flowers and other pretty bullshit. He could design a passable card. Actually, he thinks it might be fun. 

“You can’t,” Coran says and cringes in sympathy. “That would interfere with the Chanih tradition of oral invitations we’re creating.” 

“Oh,” Keith says. He tells himself it doesn’t bother him as he shrugs. “Sure, no problem.”

“So, catering,” Hunk says. “Figured lighter fare. Cocktail hour after the ceremony but before the reception, so finger foods. Then bigger dinner at the reception.” 

“Uh,” Keith says. “What the fuck, who does a cocktail hour right before getting more food?” 

“A lot of people,” Hunk says. “And then of course, the literal universal favorite: we’ll have the chocolate cake—” 

Shiro interrupts, “Keith’s allergic to chocolate.”

“Who’s allergic to chocolate?” Hunk asks dismissively. 

It’s a rhetorical question, but Shiro answers anyway. “Keith is.” 

Everyone swivels their head towards Keith, who suddenly feels very cornered. He hitches his shoulders up towards his ears and frowns deeper. He thinks he might be glaring. He’s not sure. He feels a little bit cornered in his own kitchen, which is frustrating and annoying. 

“I just am!” Keith says. “I get all hivey.” He glances at Shiro. “But, um, if Shiro wants chocolate—”

Shiro shrugs. “I don’t really care about chocolate. Besides, Keith, we talked about the pies.”

“The what?” Hunk asks. 

“We don’t really like cake,” Shiro says, turning to him. “We were actually thinking it might be fun to have pies for the wedding instead.”

“Pies? No, no, no way.” Hunk holds up his hands. “That’s so much work! At least with one big cake you’re good and done.” 

“We could order pies elsewhere,” Shiro says.

Hunk look supremely offended by the mere suggestion. Shiro actually shrinks a little beneath the weight of Hunk’s judgement. 

“Actually,” Allura says, biting her lip. “If Hunk is in the wedding party, I’m uncertain if it’d be wise to have him cater, as well. That’s so much work, Hunk.”

“I wouldn’t offer if I wasn’t willing,” Hunk’s quick to assure.

“But it may show favoritism, as well,” Allura says. “We want this to be… universal, yes? That we’re more than just Voltron. We’re the universe’s force for good.” 

“… I guess,” Hunk says, frowning. “And I guess if I wasn’t catering, I could enjoy the party with all of you more.” 

“Okay,” Shiro says and smiles at Hunk. “We don’t want the day to be stressful for any of you. It’s a happy occasion. Hunk, we’ll look for a different caterer and you can just enjoy yourself.” 

The speed with which all these decisions are being made at their table is frankly a little dizzying. Shiro adds a few more names to the guest list while Coran types away at his notes, undoubtedly weaving and envisioning the perfect wedding for the two Black Paladins. 

Keith thinks he might have eaten his pancakes too quickly. The sweetness roils in his stomach, threatening to make him nauseated. 

Hunk sighs. “I’m going to judge the hell out of whatever someone else makes.” 

Shiro laughs and he’s so unfairly beautiful, so unfairly handsome that Keith feels overwhelmed with it. He grips his arms to keep from reaching out and just kissing Shiro. He’s used to resisting that urge whenever they’re with their friends. It just means a flurry of kisses once they all leave and it’s just the two of them again. 

“I wouldn’t expect anything less, buddy,” Shiro tells him. He drags his fork across the detritus of his plate, collecting the little bits of leftover pancake. “Great breakfast, by the way.” 

The morning progresses like that— Shiro and Keith tentatively offering suggestions only to hear the quick reasons why it won’t work. Coran takes extensive notes. Shiro deletes a few names off the guest list and adds twenty more. 

Already this feels like a disaster. Keith hates that’s the word that comes to his mind: _disaster._ The exact opposite of what it should be. 

They keep having to change the things they want to do. Keith knows that Shiro means it when he says he doesn’t mind, that it isn’t a big deal— but to Keith, it’s just another collection of small failures.


	3. Chapter 3

By the end of the week, their guest list has ballooned out to five-hundred guests. Keith stares at the list in horror, scrolling and scrolling and _scrolling._ He doesn’t even know who the fuck some of these people are. 

“I’m sorry,” Allura says as she looks over Keith’s shoulder. Her touch on his arm is gentle, light and comforting and grounding, but Keith feels rattled at the prospect of getting married in front of so many people. “I know this isn’t… quite what we were hoping for. What you were hoping for.”

“It’s fine,” Keith hears himself say as he gets to the end of the list and sees _Slav_ written in one of the spots. Shiro’s going to lose his mind. “Diplomacy, right?” 

-

Shiro does, indeed, go pale when Keith mentions Slav’s name on the guest list. 

“Oh no,” he says and then says nothing else. Keith crawls into his lap to try to help distract him and he thinks it works, if only a little. 

Shiro still looks vaguely haunted a few hours later, though, staring at the ceiling. 

“I need to hide all my socks,” Shiro says with only the deepest gravity when Keith asks. 

-

The Avron caterer regards them with only the coolest of assessments. She’s the caterer that Hunk found and approved of after a long stretch of research to find someone that Hunk deemed respectable enough for their wedding. 

But really, she doesn’t seem particularly interested in catering for them or even talking to them. Her three pairs of arms are all crossed over her front, her heavily bushed upper lip quirking back and forth in the approximation of a thoughtful pose. 

Her name is Cral and she looks like she could sauté Keith alive. Keith is kind of into it, if only because the image of a sour-faced chef at their wedding is an oddly hilarious thought. Even more so when he thinks about how she might respond to any of Hunk’s suggestions to her cuisine. 

“Here,” she says as Shiro and Keith sit down, gesturing to the plates before them. “I have done as your Yellow Paladin requested and present you an array of universal culinary treats. You will taste them. You will love them. But you will tell me which one you love the most.”

“What if I hate them all?” Keith asks, meaning to joke and make Shiro laugh.

The look Cral gives him is so damning that Keith nearly shrivels up. That, at least, makes Shiro laugh— up until Cral turns to look at him, glaring at him for daring to laugh over something as sacred and important as food taste-testing.

Shiro gulps somewhat theatrically and entirely for Keith’s benefit. Keith loves him with everything he is. His hand finds Shiro’s thigh under the table and squeezes. 

“Thank you for meeting with us on such short notice,” Shiro squeaks out.

Cral sniffs, her bushy beard flicking back and forth. “Eat.” 

She shoves the first plate towards them. It looks like a crostini topped with salmon roe, although it’s pulsing a vibrant purple and dripping with what looks like passionfruit sauce. 

“This is the traditional dish of the Olkari,” Cral says. “Flambéed crustacean upon a bed of milled slumberflower, baked to a satisfactory mist.” 

Sure enough, when Keith picks up his sample, it starts misting over his knuckles, making his fingers glow a delicate purple. He casts Shiro a startled look. Shiro shrugs and pops his into his mouth. Keith’s quick to follow. 

As he chews, he finds it tastes little of crab or passionfruit, but more subtle and earthy, like mushrooms or something else savory. He thinks this is what Hunk calls umami. 

“Not bad,” Keith says and watches Cral’s eyes widen in horror. He clears his throat. “I mean. Delicious. Really good.” 

She sniffs, thoroughly unimpressed. She shoves the second plate towards them. They work through the remaining dishes, each one strangely textured and strangely colored but no doubt delicious. He understands why Hunk would have recommended Cral.

By the end of it, she still looks sour-faced but accepts their rankings from best to still good, but not best. She regards their organized list with a disdainful curl of her lip.

“I can work with you,” she says. “You pass the interview.”

Shiro snorts and then quickly muffles it in a cough. “I didn’t realize we were the ones interviewing.” 

“I do not cater for just anyone, not even Paladins of Voltron,” she says without a shred of irony. “You must prove you would appreciate my talents. Your wedding seems a necessary challenge and certainly will benefit from my opus.” 

“Well,” Keith says and then finds he has no idea what else to say. 

He lets Shiro speak up. “We’d be delighted and honored to have you creating your art for us, Chef Cral.” 

“Very good,” she says. She packs up the plates and shoos them with one hand. “I will contact the Yellow Paladin with my menu and preparation, then. He will also forward my fee.” 

-

“How are we affording all this?” Keith asks that night as they lay in bed together. 

Shiro shrugs, one arm tucked behind his head. “I mean… I have all my savings and my parents are chipping in. Plus, Garrison owed me that insane bonus for declaring me dead.”

Keith wilts. “Shiro, you shouldn’t be the only one paying for this—” 

But the truth is, Keith has very little to his name. Shiro smiles at him sympathetically, tucking his fingers through Keith’s hair. He rubs a circle at Keith’s temple but it hardly soothes him.

“We can’t afford such a massive wedding and massive guest list,” Keith says. “Are we going to cause some universal incident if we ask for donations to support our stupid fucking wedding?” 

Shiro laughs. “Keith,” he says gently. “Think of all the presents!” 

“We don’t really need anything,” Keith says. “Is it bad form to ask for money?” 

Shiro chuckles, playing with Keith’s hair. “Keith, seriously. We’re fine. I’m taking care of it.” 

“How?” 

“Why do you think I’m putting in extra hours of mentorship and flight-teaching at the Garrison despite being officially retired from their rankings?” At Keith’s horrified look, he laughs dismissively, shrugging in that way he always does when it comes to discussing his own mental and physical health. “It’s fine. We have enough to get through this, and with the Paladins helping with planning, we aren’t paying insane fees. Coran refused my money when I offered.”

“I should be able to help, too,” Keith says. He feels that twist of anxiety deep in his gut. Shiro loves teaching and he loves mentoring, but Keith knows how he feels about the Garrison now. 

Shiro already overworks himself. Now Keith’s making it worse. 

Shiro shakes his head. “It’s fine.”

“It’s not fine,” Keith insists. “Maybe I should do some mentorship roles at the Garrison.”

“You’d be an excellent mentor,” Shiro says, already picking up on the ironic tilt in Keith’s voice. 

It’s far too kind. Keith doubts the Garrison would ever let him anywhere near impressionable youths, even if once he says it, he finds he likes the idea of helping a kid like himself. Like Shiro helped him. 

He clears his throat, banishing the thought. “Anyway. I bet there’s some mercenary thing I—”

“No,” Shiro says quickly. “Baby, no, you don’t have to do that.” He rubs the back of Keith’s neck, kneading in deep. “We’re _fine,_ I promise.” 

“This wedding is getting away from us,” Keith says. “We shouldn’t be spending too much.”

“Maybe, but it’ll be worth it, right? It’ll be fun for everyone— and it’ll be good PR for VOP.” 

It’s a neutral assessment and certainly correct, but it doesn’t escape Keith when Shiro utterly fails to mention anything about having fun himself. 

But then Shiro adds, “I’m really excited to see your Ganca Shuffle.” 

Keith pouts. “I look terrible.”

“You do not.”

“You haven’t even seen me do it,” Keith says. 

“I know the way you move,” Shiro says with a grin, squeezing the back of Keith’s neck again. “And you always look good, baby. Very graceful. _Very_ flexible.” 

Keith snorts, blushing. “ _Shiro._ ” 

“What?” Shiro asks, perfectly innocent. 

Keith can see right through him. But, most of all, he can see what Shiro is doing to try to distract and reassure Keith, to get him to laugh and to relax. Keith hates that despite knowing it, he finds it working. He sinks into Shiro’s arms, grumbling as he presses a kiss to his cheek and mutters, “I’ll show you flexibility.”

“Oh, yes, please do,” Shiro says, laughing as Keith pushes him down. 

Despite it all, though, hours after they’re finished, Keith lies in their bed and stares at the ceiling, feeling unsettled. Shiro snores against his neck, nuzzled in close, completely fucked-out and sated. 

But Keith only feels guilt. 

-

Unfortunately, the bad news just keeps coming. When Shiro opens the door to the Paladins and they come shuffling in, Allura looks uncertain and unhappy. She shakes her head when Keith asks about it, waiting until everyone is settled. 

“We need to put the aisle back into the wedding to accommodate the Kutins,” Allura says abruptly once she sits down, unable to keep sitting on it. “I know we spoke on it before—” 

“It’s… it’s so old-fashioned.” Keith wrinkles his nose. He’s never much cared for older Earth traditions, and it’s not something he’d put his foot down on, but it’s not necessarily something he’s super excited about incorporating into their wedding. 

He shuffles his feet on the floor, wriggling his toes inside his house slippers. He sighs. 

“Which one of us is walking down the aisle, then?” he asks, resigned. 

“I guess you?” Lance says because, of course, he always has to have an opinion.

Keith knows he shouldn’t rise to the bait. He _knows_. And yet. 

“Why me?” 

Lance shrugs. “You’re more graceful.”

“Hey,” Shiro says, pretending to be insulted. “I’m plenty graceful, I’ll have you know.” 

He pours some freshly brewed green tea into cups for everyone. They’re laying off the coffee this week upon Shiro’s insistence. Keith likes tea just fine, but he knows Pidge is distressed by the turn of events. She’s eyeing the teacups like Shiro slapped her. 

“I didn’t say you weren’t. I’m just saying Keith’s more so.” Lance wriggles his fingers as if that somehow demonstrates or indicates Keith’s level of grace. “He looks like a ballerina.” 

“I’m buffer than you,” Keith reminds him. 

“You’re not buffer than Shiro, though,” Lance says back and then sticks out his tongue because he’s twelve. 

“Ballerinas are buff,” Pidge says. “Buffer than all of you. Bet they could bend metal bars with their legs.” 

“Does someone have to walk down the aisle?” Shiro asks, interrupting the conversation as he sets the cups down in front of the Paladins. 

“What do you mean, Shiro?” 

“Well, it seems a little strange if it’s Keith or me walking down the aisle towards the other,” Shiro says. “Keith and I have always been in it together… So why don’t we walk together down it?” He presses a kiss to Keith’s temple just because he can and because he knows it’ll make Keith blush. “That way we don’t have to do the outdated give-the-bride-away-even-though-there-is-no-bride thing.” 

He settles in the seat next to Keith at their table, his smile gentle. Keith looks at him, trying to discern if this is a suggestion that Shiro’s actually excited about or just another attempt at diplomacy. He seems interested in the idea— but that’s just Shiro’s way to always find ways to be quietly rebellious. 

And, really, Keith finds that he likes the idea. Walking at Shiro’s side, just as they were always meant to. 

“That could work,” Hunk says. “It’s romantic.”

Shiro looks quietly smug as he sips his tea, his eyes glittering as he looks at Keith. “My dad won’t mind not giving me away,” Shiro says. “He’s like Keith. He hates people paying attention to him and walking down an aisle is far too attention-grabbing.” 

“Who’d be looking at him when you’re there?” Keith says. He likes Shiro’s dad just fine, really, and knows that Shiro’s dad would agree with Keith’s assessment. Hard to look anywhere but at Shiro when Shiro is around, in Keith’s humble but correct opinion. 

It makes Shiro laugh, his cheeks turning pink. He looks pleased, though, hooking his ankle around Keith’s beneath the table. 

“You all assume it wouldn’t be Keith going down anyway,” Lance mutters into his teacup. 

“And my mom, too,” Keith says. “It’s not like she even knows the tradition enough to be disappointed if it’s not me going down the aisle.” 

“Sounds like a plan, then,” Allura says, marking it down on the PADD, looking significantly less jittery and more relieved. It’s sweet, actually, to see that evidence of how badly she wants to help Shiro and Keith with their wedding, to help them be happy with the end result. 

Keith nods. “Sounds good.”

“Excellent,” Allura says. “Shiro and Keith will walk themselves down the aisle, then!” 

-

“The aisle is out,” Allura announces the next week. “It’s apparently deeply offensive to Ovai culture to split the audiences and make the grooms walk through it.” 

“What if we’re carried over the audience, then?” Shiro says, clearly joking and clearly tired.

Allura, however, frowns as she considers. “Perhaps if the audience carries you both to the sacrificial altar.”

“I’m sorry, what sacrificial altar?” Keith asks. 

-

Things keep slipping from them after that. It’s a great insult to have Olkari appetizers but not Ehu delicacies. It’s fine to omit Galra finger-foods but a great travesty not to have Galra entrées. 

The color blue is offensive. No, the color grey is offensive. No, wait, it’s the color green. 

Flowers are an insult. The lack of flowers is an insult. 

It’s an ever-revolving door of what’s in and what’s out. Shiro offers Coran some pay again and, this time, he accepts with a deeply tired sigh. He has heavy bags on his eyes, his PADD chirping unending every time they meet for their weekly meetings. The other Paladins seem a little fatigued, too. 

Many Saturday mornings are spent just eating food together and not talking about anything even vaguely wedding-related. 

The latest issue: the wedding party is too insular when made up only of Paladins, and so Shiro and Keith start reviewing applications from non-human species vying to be members of the wedding party. They’re expected to have four additional members each. 

Slav applies to be in Shiro’s wedding party. Shiro turns white as a sheet once he sees it. He might be second away from chucking his PADD out the window if Keith didn’t swoop in and snag it from him.

“I’ll be fucking damned,” Shiro says with the deepest feeling, “if Slav is in my goddamn wedding party. Isn’t it bad enough that he’s a guest?” 

Three swears in one sentence. Keith knows it’s serious. He kisses Shiro’s forehead, then his temple, then finally his lips.

“I’ll assassinate him for you,” Keith promises when they part. 

It does make Shiro laugh, although it’s a tired sound. He wilts. “Don’t do that. At least, don’t leave any evidence.” 

Keith kisses him again until he can banish the unhappy pinch of his brow. It takes a few tries, just a pillow of his lips to Shiro’s, soothing his fingers back into his hair and cradling him close. Shiro sighs out and inches closer, content to kiss Keith until they’re both breathless. 

“Why is he always on these lists?” Shiro whines once they part.

“He’s secretly in love with you.” 

Shiro shudders. “God. I can’t tell if you’re kidding or serious. Please be kidding.” 

Secretly, Keith isn’t so sure. But then again, Keith has a working theory that anyone attracted to men would be secretly in love with Shiro. It is, after all, Shiro. Keith might be projecting.

He swipes his thumb across Shiro’s mouth and smiles. “I’m joking, babe.” 

Shiro slumps. “It’s not funny.”

He does smile a little, though, especially when Keith kisses him again. 

It goes on for months— endless meetings determining the scope and breadth of their wedding ceremony. By the end of the second month, Shiro and Keith’s wedding has gone from a small affair for friends and family to a universal who’s-who. 

“Maybe we should reconsider having our wedding in the mountains,” Shiro says one day, that all-too-familiar look of fatigue pinching his face. “I don’t know if it’s good for so many people to be trampling around on the vegetation out there.”

Keith’s heart twists up in his chest. “But that’s something you really wanted.”

Shiro shrugs. “It’s okay. We have our Friday dates. I don’t really care about the wedding venue.” 

But Keith wants to protest. He wants to rip the itinerary and smash it to pieces. He stares at the PADD on their counter, newly submitted applications to be part of the Black Paladins’ Wedding Party waiting for their rejections and acceptances. So far, they’ve read through far too many five hundred word essays describing how _my dream has always been to help the universe and what better way to help the universe than to help the defenders of it?_

Keith lets out a small hissing breath and drags his fingers through his hair. “Shiro. You and I don’t have a ton of things we really want, but this is one of them, right? It’ll be fine. We can scope out a spot that’s part of the nature reserve and has the paths for hiking. We’ll make sure it’s all set up so nobody tramples anywhere.”

iShiro doesn’t look convinced. “We have eight hundred people coming to this wedding, Keith,” Shiro says. “I don’t know if we can guarantee that.” 

“Most of them are aliens, right? Let’s just say that if they touch anything besides sand, they’ll get poisoned.” 

That makes Shiro laugh, at least, shaking his head. “Babe, we can’t do that.” 

“Watch me,” Keith insists, slinking up to Shiro and running his hands up his chest. He breathes out when Shiro’s hands move to cup his hips. “It’s something you really want, right? I want to give you everything you want.”

Shiro’s mouth tilts into a gentle smile. “You’re such a sweetheart.”

It makes Keith sputter and blush, the way any compliment like this always does when it comes from Shiro. He tilts his head down to hide his smile, but it just makes Shiro chuckle and kiss the top of his head. 

“I’ll talk with Coran,” Shiro says. “See if there’s a way we can have our sunset wedding without jeopardizing the ecosystem.” Shiro sighs. “This place has been through enough after the Galra… I don’t want to be the reason it gets destroyed more.”

“Shiro…”

“The wildlife’s only just started to come back,” Shiro says, his eyes big. “That’s a big deal, Keith. I don’t want to be responsible for the butterflies leaving again.” 

Keith grunts and then jerks up to kiss Shiro. 

He’s too good. Too kind. Too thoughtful. Shiro is perfect in every way— Keith’s always known that— and it makes him whimper to think about it, especially once Shiro deepens the kiss with a pointed sweep of his tongue.

“It’ll be okay,” Shiro assures once they break for air. “I’m marrying you. That’s all I need.”

Keith shakes his head, that familiar need simmering in his belly. He rubs at Shiro’s chest and up to his shoulders, looking up at him. “You deserve the perfect wedding, Shiro.” 

“And it will be. Like I said.” 

“Stop trying to be romantic,” Keith says in a grumble, pouting. 

Shiro kisses his pout and keeps kissing him until Keith can’t breathe, much less speak. 

-

Keith groans as their Saturday-morning alarm clicks on, flooding their bedroom with the shrill chirp of the bell. They used to let music wake them up, but then Keith started to resent their favorite songs, associating them with waking up too early. The alarm, at least, is easy to hate. 

He hates waking up early on Saturdays. It used to be their sleep-in day, but that time is long gone. Shiro rolls over, nearly flattening Keith beneath the warm bulk of his weight, and snuffles against his shoulder.

Keith nudges him with a laugh. “We gotta get up.”

“Five more minutes, baby,” Shiro whines, but there’s nothing sleepy in his voice. Shiro always wakes instantly once the alarm goes off and somehow, remarkably, never falls back asleep. He never even needs the snooze button. 

He nuzzles against Keith’s shoulder and it’s distracting, but Keith can’t allow them to get too distracted. The Paladins are coming over earlier than usual today so that they can work through some of the logistics of the ceremony. 

Keith’s lost track of which types of dances he’s supposed to be memorizing at this point. But he’s going to be showcasing what he has so far to all of them and that reality alone is mortifying and requires at least two hours of psyching up. 

Shiro kisses his shoulder, as if sensing Keith’s impending dread. 

“Out of bed, you,” Keith says, tugging on Shiro with only the smallest feeling of regret. He kisses the top of Shiro’s head. “We have Paladins incoming T-minus… whenever.” 

The Paladins are a whirlwind. They’ll show up when they show up— and Keith deeply regrets and misses the days they’d sleep in and come rolling into events after noon at the bare minimum. 

Shiro grunts and then sits up with a groan. He cracks a yawn, rubbing at his jaw, his hair all mushed and sticking up with cowlicks. 

“Can’t have them walking in on me naked, I guess,” Shiro says with a forlorn sigh. 

“Yep,” Keith agrees and pinches Shiro’s side so he’ll squirm. “For my eyes only.” 

Shiro grins. Despite the morning breath, Keith can’t help but kiss him for it. Shiro hums in response, sinking into the touch and cupping Keith’s cheek. It’s tender, sweet in the way only Shiro makes him feel, and Keith regrets pulling back. 

“Naked,” Keith reminds him and Shiro sighs, pushing aside the blankets. “Better get some clothes on before I lose my mind and jump you.”

“Oh no, that’d be horrible,” Shiro says, sarcastic and grinning. But he goes to the dresser with a laugh, banished there by a slap of Keith’s hand on his ass. Keith keeps his eyes on him as Shiro pulls out some fresh clothes. 

Shiro glances back at him over his shoulder and winks as he bends down to pull on his boxer briefs. It makes Keith snort, blushing up to his ears despite himself. 

“Stop teasing me!” 

“You’re the one staring, baby!” 

Shiro starts wiggling his ass theatrically as he tugs the underwear up. And, really, it should look stupid and obnoxious, but it just sets Keith on fire— both with that ever-simmering desire for Shiro but also just with embarrassment on his fiancé’s behalf. 

“God, fine, come _here_ ,” Keith grumbles, stalking across the room to grab Shiro and throw him onto the bed, their short timeline before Paladin Breakfast be damned. 

Some time later and now significantly sweatier and stickier, Keith stares at the ceiling and groans as he notes the time. They both need showers and knowing their luck, the doorbell will ring in two minutes and ruin everyone’s day and everyone’s lives in general. 

“You’re so pretty,” Shiro sighs, because he always gets moony right after sex, all sleepy and cuddly. He noses at Keith’s neck, curling around him and looking perfectly content and pleased.

Keith skates his fingertips down Shiro’s spine just to make him shiver. “Only you think that.” 

“Hmph,” Shiro huffs. 

It’s an old argument and one he doesn’t renew in earnest, although Keith can hear him thinking _everyone knows you’re pretty_ very loudly. Keith kisses his forehead for it. 

“What are you thinking about?” Shiro asks as Keith continues staring up at the ceiling.

“The others,” Keith says. 

“Well that’s always what a guy wants to hear in bed,” Shiro says, teasing. There’s no heat to the words and when Keith tilts his head down to peer at him, Shiro’s grinning. “What about the others, Keith?” 

“They’re going to be here in like two minutes and we haven’t showered,” Keith says. 

Shiro snorts. “They’re the ones who keep insisting on coming earlier and earlier despite it making them miserable, so I say let’s leave them hanging out on the porch.” 

Keith barks a laugh. He knows Shiro doesn’t mean it— he’d never do that to their friends— but the temptation is certainly there, especially if it means he can coax Shiro into round two. 

“If you shower with me, it’ll save time,” Shiro says.

“No way,” Keith says. “Remember last time? I still have the bruise under my chin from falling.” 

Shiro lifts his head and downright pouts. It’s theatrical, a big puffy bottom lip. Shiro has no right to do that with his mouth so soon after all the other things he’s done with his mouth because it is, frankly, utterly distracting. Keith shoves a pillow in his face. 

“Nice try,” Keith says with a laugh. “Go get yourself cleaned up and cooled down.” 

Shiro pushes the pillow away, still pouting with those puppy eyes but also so clearly fighting a smile. There’s something sparkling in his eyes as he looks up at Keith. Keith nudges at his shoulders until he does sit up properly, even if Shiro makes a big show of moving only to straddle Keith. The pleasant weight sinking down on Keith _is_ wonderfully distracting, but Keith is also trying to be a responsible wedding-planning adult here. 

“What if I ask very, very nicely?” Shiro asks.

“Not a chance, Shirogane.” 

Shiro woofs a laugh and swings his leg off Keith, rolling across their bed until he sits up again on his side of the bed. He’s made a total mess of the sheets, but they needed to be cleaned after all that anyway. 

“Shirogane,” Shiro says, as if testing the word. His expression turns coy. 

“Yep, that’s your name,” Keith says, pushing his foot against Shiro’s hip until he stands. “Go shower. I’m all sticky and itchy.” 

Shiro catches Keith’s foot and plans a sloppy kiss against his ankle. “At least come keep me company even if you don’t join me.” 

Keith sighs, letting Shiro tug on his foot so that he goes dragging across the bed. It takes very little convincing to get him to stand up and follow Shiro to the bathroom. While Shiro showers, Keith brushes his teeth and shaves his face. 

Once Shiro finishes showering, they switch off. Keith takes a quick shower, scrubbing himself clean while Shiro blow dries and styles his hair. 

Keith’s shower ends faster than Shiro’s, and Shiro’s just finishing with his styling as Keith slumps against his back, looping his arms around Shiro’s waist, the droplets of water absorbing into Shiro’s bathrobe. 

Shiro hums, covering his hands with his massive palm easily, leaning back against Keith’s chest. “Hey, baby.” 

“Hey.” Keith leans up to kiss the back of Shiro’s neck. “You look nice.” 

“I _always_ look nice, according to you,” Shiro says, teasing, but his eyes are sparkling with delight. He turns around in Keith’s arms, grinning down at him. “And wow, look who’s talking— the prettiest guy in the entire universe.” 

“I look like a drowned rat and you know it,” Keith says. He always looks something like a wet cat after he showers despite loving the scalding heat of the water on his skin. He steps back from Shiro to towel himself off quickly and slip into his own terrycloth bathrobe. 

Shiro plucks up a spare towel and covers Keith’s head, toweling off Keith’s hair for him. It makes Keith almost start purring, sinking into the touch and care. 

“Hey,” Shiro says after a moment of silence, dropping the towel back. 

Keith catches a glimpse of himself in the mirror, his hair a massive lion’s mane of tangles and cowlicks. Shiro’s big hands smooth it back for him, taming it down. 

“Hm?” 

“Coran asked me something this week.” 

“Oh, nothing I love more than bringing up our friends in bed is bringing up Coran in our bathroom,” Keith says. It makes Shiro chuckle. Keith hums as Shiro rubs a slow circle at his temple with his thumb. “What did Coran ask this time?” 

“Nothing bad, I promise,” Shiro says. “Only somewhat wedding related.”

“Goodie,” Keith says. 

Shiro withdraws his hands to pluck up Keith’s comb for him. Keith still doesn’t much like brushing or combing his own hair. He spent years not even bothering too much. But Shiro likes to do it. 

Keith sighs as he hoists himself up onto the counter. He ducks his head forward as Shiro starts combing his hair for him. Keith might not much like brushing his own hair, but he _loves_ when Shiro does it for him. It’s become something of an unspoken ritual between them. 

“So what did Coran ask?” Keith prompts.

Shiro hesitates still. Keith can’t look up at him and study his expression while Shiro’s combing his hair like this, but Keith listens carefully to the way he breathes, pays attention to the subtle shift of his hands as he touches Keith. 

Nervous, maybe, but not upset. That’s okay, then. 

“So Coran’s been compiling all those traditions for us and figuring it all out,” Shiro says. “And that includes a lot of the Terran traditions, too, right?”

“Right,” Keith agrees. 

“So…” 

Shiro trails off, focusing on a little tangle in Keith’s hair. As with so many things, Shiro is patient and careful, his touch unbearably gentle as he works the tangle loose and passes the comb gently through Keith’s hair. 

Keith is better with patience, but not the best. When Shiro doesn’t offer the words, Keith starts to feel squirmy. It’s only once Keith opens his mouth to say something that Shiro finally speaks. 

“He asked about the human tradition of taking names.” 

Shiro pauses with the comb, the teeth poised against his skull, but not passing through his hair. Keith pauses, waiting, but when nothing else is forthcoming he looks up at Shiro. 

Shiro’s expression is a tentative thing. Keith can’t quite read it at first. He studies Shiro’s face and feels like he’s being studied in turn, that Shiro is waiting for some sort of reaction from him. 

Keith bites his lip in thought. “I guess I never thought about how other species wouldn’t have that.” 

“I think some must,” Shiro says. “Or do, I think. Coran said that there are some planets where mates exchange one another’s names entirely. Like, I’d be Keith and you’d be Takashi.” 

Keith’s mouth twitches. “I’m not sure if the name Keith suits you.” 

“Takashi barely suits me,” Shiro says. “Too stuffy.” 

Keith tilts his head, reaching his hand out to stroke over Shiro’s bicep as Shiro resumes brushing Keith’s hair, taking extra care with his bangs, stroking through them and fluffing them up. 

“The Galra have something like it,” Keith says. “Mom told me about it. You carry one another’s names or titles… I guess, kind of like a middle name? It’s part of you but not official.” 

Shiro nods. He focuses on combing Keith’s hair, taking his time as he drags the teeth through. It’s soothing, those gentle tugs on his scalp making him feel all tingly. He keeps his hand resting on Shiro’s bicep, feeling that familiar flex and pull of his muscles as he works. 

“Anyway,” Shiro says quietly. “Coran didn’t quite get surnames… Ha, he actually had no idea that Shiro wasn’t actually my name.” 

That makes Keith laugh, the sound punching out of him. Then again, he can’t really blame Coran— it isn’t as if anyone called him by his full name the entire time they were out in space. If Alteans don’t have surnames, it’s just as well. Now that he thinks of it, he’s not sure if Coran knows any of their last names. 

“So I need to start calling you Mr. Shirogane in front of him from now on so he remembers,” Keith says. “Got it.” 

“That’s Captain Shirogane to you, mister,” Shiro says.

“And that’s Commander to _you_ , Captain,” Keith shoots back. It makes them both laugh. Shiro’s free hand falls to Keith’s knee, sliding up over his thigh and giving him a teasing squeeze. 

Keith sighs, feeling relaxed and pliant for once. Between regular work and wedding planning, he’s been tense for weeks now. But, of course, it’s always Shiro that can make him feel boneless and sweetly calm. 

“Anyway,” Shiro says, that shyness returning to his expression. “We’ve never really talked about it. Our names.” 

“Oh,” Keith says. He pauses. “But you’ve thought about it?” 

“I don’t know if you’ve thought about it,” Shiro says. “If you wanted to take my name or if you wanted me to take yours. Or we could just keep it as is, too.” 

He sets down the comb, carding his fingers through Keith’s hair next. It’s a gentle touch, just for the sake of holding Keith near, to soothe him. Keith sighs, leaning forward and sinking into Shiro’s hold. Shiro hugs him, cradling him close and rubbing his back. 

“I haven’t really thought about it,” Keith admits. “Sorry.” 

“No! No, that’s okay, baby.” Shiro draws back to smile at him. “We have so much else going on, and this is— well. It’s a tradition but it’s another kind of old-fashioned one. I know how you feel about those.” 

Keith’s mouth twitches. “Yeah.” 

“We could also do a hyphen name,” Shiro says. 

Keith snorts. “… Then it’d rhyme, though.” 

Shiro laughs. It’s a beautiful sound and he looks so young and boyish. Keith loves him so much and loves him especially when he looks shy like this, a certain kind of hopeful that Keith can’t place. He doesn’t know which of the options Shiro’s hoping for, but Keith will give it to him. 

“I think that’s kind of cute, if I’m honest,” Shiro says. “Takashi Kogane-Shirogane. Keith Kogane-Shirogane. It’s cute!” 

Keith feels a flush rush over his cheeks, something crashing deep in his gut at the sound of their names like that, the sound of Shiro saying his own name like that. Maybe it’s a little goofy to hear the rhyme, but something primal unearths itself inside Keith. 

“I, um,” Keith says in a quiet voice, watching Shiro’s face carefully. “I kind of just assumed I’d take yours.” 

“What?” Shiro asks, brow crinkling. “You don’t have to, baby.”

Keith can’t tell if that’s the option Shiro wants, if that’s the one he’d been hoping for. Keith stares into Shiro’s eyes, trying to study his expression for any subtle change. 

“What if that’s what I want?” Keith asks. 

Shiro blinks at him, tilting his head. “Is it?” 

If Keith’s honest, then yes. He can’t tell if it’s what Shiro wants, too, but Keith isn’t lying when he says that he’d assumed as much. It never was even a question for him. He nods his head, peering at Shiro. 

“Then that’s fine,” Shiro says, his smile shy. “I just don’t want you to feel like you _have_ to take my name.” 

“I don’t mind,” Keith says, and then elaborates, “I like your name.” 

Shiro’s mouth twitches, the smile growing. He looks shy still. It’s moments like these that Keith reminds himself of just how young Shiro is. Just how young they both are still. Even after all they’ve been through, all the things they’ve faced together and separate, they’re still young. Shiro’s still a boy trying to fight his smile, moony and besotted because of Keith. 

And Keith? Well, Keith’s used to that ever-growing burst of love inside him. Whenever he thinks he can’t love Shiro more, Shiro has to go and prove him wrong. 

“We’d both be Shiro,” Shiro says, like that’s a funny joke. Keith rolls his eyes even though he’s endeared by it. His heart leaps into his throat. 

“There’s only one Shiro,” Keith answers, touching Shiro’s chest as he leans in to kiss him. He feels like he can taste Shiro’s smile in the kiss. He licks Shiro’s lip as he draws back, smiling at him. “… I could be Keith Shirogane.” 

Shiro laughs, eyes softening. “But I could be Takashi Kogane.” 

Keith hiccups, laughing, and ducks his head against the embarrassment and affection that swells up in him. Shiro’s hands fall to his thighs again, squeezing and rubbing up and down. It’s more soothing than anything teasing or heated. Just a gentle touch. 

When Keith looks back up at Shiro again, it’s just to lift his hand and cup Shiro’s jaw, his thumb swiping across his cheek. 

“Shiro,” Keith murmurs. 

“Yes?” Shiro asks, leaning in closer. 

“Takashi Kogane,” Keith says, trying the name out.

“Keith Shirogane,” Shiro answers and grins, his eyes looking a little mistier than before. It makes Keith’s heart gallop away in his chest. 

Yes, he thinks. This is what they want. He thinks this must be what Shiro wants, too. He’ll give Shiro the world, the universe, everything and anything. Whatever Shiro wants, Keith will give to him. 

“Fuck, that sounds good.”

Shiro laughs. “Yeah.” 

They look at one another, the world quiet around them. Keith swipes his thumb across Shiro’s cheek again, just staring into his eyes. The best friend. His fiancé. His future husband. 

It feels strange to be in this moment together— a random Saturday morning, both of them freshly showered and wearing bathrobes. Keith sits on the counter with freshly combed hair. They’re waiting for their friends to arrive and bombard them with strange questions about their upcoming wedding. 

But right now, it’s just him and Shiro. This is the reality that Keith gets to exist in— surrounded by a kind, peaceful universe, surrounded by family and friends who love them. But here, right now, with the love of his life. Talking about their names, about a future they get to have together.

It's this, somehow, that makes Keith actually feel excited for the wedding. It’s this that makes it feel real. 

“I… I should be Keith Shirogane,” Keith says, offering the words in a breathless rush. “I don’t— well. I know your name is important to you.”

“So is yours.”

Keith shakes his head. He pats his chest with his free hand. “I’ve got my dad right here. I don’t need his name to have him. And that’d be the only reason I want it. I’d rather— I want to be yours.” 

Shiro laughs, something fragile and sweet. When he leans in to kiss Shiro, it feels worshipful— like he’s vowing to Keith right then and there. It’s a gentle kiss, just a pillow of their lips together, the hush of Shiro’s breath. There’s a deep, promising swipe to his tongue, like he’s ready to whisper a prayer against Keith’s lips. Keith can’t help his soft groan, a mixture of desire and overwhelming emotion. 

_Keith Shirogane._

He loves the sound of that. 

-

Keith lets their conversation buoy him even once the Paladins’ inevitably arrive. They don’t even bother ringing the doorbell this time. It serves Keith right for leaving the door unlocked, honestly, startling out of his skin as the Paladins sweep into the house with a loud bang. 

“Fuck!” he gasps as they storm into the kitchen like an invasion. “Where the fuck did you all come from?” 

He must have left the door unlocked when he went to get the mail, but it still is a bit shocking. The Paladins, at least, have brought food. In lieu of Paladin Dinners, things have become more the Paladins Breakfast, and there’s a wide array of potluck dishes and breakfast goodies for them to munch on between the pages and samples. 

“Alright,” Allura says, clapping her hands together. “Time to review the dances!” 

It’s been two hours of reviewing what’s changed and what’s stayed the same and Keith regrets that the wolf can teleport himself out of the house on his own, so Keith can’t even use taking him on a walk as an excuse to take a breather. 

Allura turns to Shiro first. “You’ve been practicing the Annang Dance of Veracity, yes?” 

“Uh,” Shiro says, casting a look towards Keith before he breathes out. “Yes? But I don’t know if I’m ready to show it yet.” 

“Nonsense,” Coran dismisses. “I’m sure you’ll be great!” 

That’s the thing with Shiro, of course. He can show his imperfections to Keith— for the most part and only in the right circumstances— but it’s still hard for him to do so with everyone else. If Shiro’s dance isn’t perfect, he won’t want to show it to the others. Hell, he hasn’t even really shown it to Keith yet. He caught Shiro practicing two nights ago and he’d stuttered to a stop, laughing self-deprecatingly, and then asked Keith if he wanted help with dinner. 

“Wait,” Keith cuts in. “Let me show my Volir Dance. I’ve been practicing.” 

He doesn’t wait for anyone to give him permission. He just launches into it. So far, all he’s been able to tell about the Volir is that it involves a lot of stomping. He stomps around the kitchen, clapping his hands above his head. 

The other Paladins watch on in a stunned silence. Keith half-expects Lance to be the one to laugh in his face first. 

But it’s Allura this time. She actually _snorts_ , then looks alarmed and covers her mouth. Keith stomps his rhythmic stomping to look on in perplexed silence. 

“I’m so sorry,” she says, giggling. “Truly. Ah… It is coming along quite nicely, Keith.” 

“You’re forgetting the ritualistic grunting,” Hunk says, somehow managing to look completely deadpan. 

“Let me try again, then,” Keith says. It’s fine, he figures, since it means that all the attention is away from Shiro. Keith will handle all the teasing and ribbing if it means that Shiro can relax. 

Shiro’s smile is grateful. He also looks like he’s trying very, very hard not to laugh along with everyone else as Keith dances. 

Keith sways his hips, which isn’t part of the dance, and winks at Shiro. 

That’s what gets him to laugh, clapping his hands along to Keith’s stomping. 

-

The bell above the door twinkles as Keith bursts in, breathless and running late to the fitting appointment for their wedding outfits. Keith didn’t mean to be late, but naturally his meetings ran late this afternoon. 

Keith takes one look at Shiro in the first outfit of their wedding ceremony and bursts out laughing. It’s very hard to laugh while also trying to catch one’s breath, but Keith somehow manages. He doesn’t mean to laugh, really. He reminds himself to be diplomatic. But he’s never seen a collar so high in his life. 

He tries to cover his snorting laughing fit before the Olkari dressmaker sees, the sounds punching out of him. He’s often said that Shiro can make anything look handsome just by the nature of being Shiro, but even this is testing that theory. 

“It’s regal, Keith,” Shiro tells him but it’s so clear he wants to laugh, too. 

The collar towers above Shiro’s head, blocking his peripheral vision. It’s also an aloe green, clenched tight around his throat. The rest of the outfit is similarly green, clinging over Shiro’s body (not a tragedy, Keith thinks) but stretching well past his fingers in a flurry of fabric. It reminds Keith of fins, actually. The peplum at his waist makes his hips look huge.

He looks like a mantis, maybe, Keith thinks. Or a very confused wheat stalk. 

Keith can’t hold back his laughter. It booms out of him now, his belly heaving. It’s beyond rude but he can’t help it, especially when Shiro winks at him and sways his hips in some approximation of temptation and seduction. 

The Olkari dressmaker turns at the sound of his laughter and Keith can see her frown from across the room. 

“There you are, Black Paladin,” the Olkari says as she snaps her fingers to bring Keith closer. “I have your outfit as well. Strip down and I’ll dress you to adjust you both at once.” 

At least she’s relatively professional, despite Keith’s thoroughly unprofessional entrance. 

“Guess you’ll really need to shorten his sleeves,” Keith says as he hops up onto the dais next to Shiro and kicks off his boots. It takes a little wriggling since he’s too lazy to lean down and tug at the laces. He shifts from foot to foot until he can flip them off and away. 

“No, my sleeves are apparently perfectly adjusted,” Shiro says and flaps his arms around so the fabric goes spooling around him like a bundle of silk scarves. “My chest needs to be let out, though. It’s apparently too tight— and therefore obscene.”

“Too bad,” Keith says in a purr, eyes dragging over the tight fabric stretching over Shiro’s chest. He can see his fiancé’s nipples through the fabric. It’s delightful. Keith kind of wants to bite them. 

He slips out of his jacket and knows he’s the one being a little too obscene now, his shoulders moving in a seductive roll as he slips out of the fabric. Shiro’s grin turns devilish. 

“Paladin,” the Olkari says with a sigh, interrupting Keith’s flirtation. “If you please.”

“Yeah, sorry,” Keith says, undoing his belt and reminding himself to ignore his Pavlovian response to Shiro’s body. He can’t get hard standing next to Shiro and stripping down, although naturally that’s all he wants to do. 

Keith stares at the Olkari dressmaker— no offense to her and her sexual prowess, really, but it does help to put a damper on his lust. 

“Let’s see what you’ve got,” Keith says, hoping it can’t be as bad as what Shiro’s in.

But oh, it is. By the end of his fitting, Keith’s similarly dressed in a high-collared monstrosity, aloe-green and clingy in all the wrong places. 

“Look at those hips,” Shiro teases him in a stage whisper. Keith sticks out his tongue. 

“So,” Keith says as he examines himself in the mirror. “That’s not too bad.” 

He’s sure that isn’t the most encouraging of assessments, but the Olkari have always been a relatively accepting bunch from Keith’s experiences. Not overly enthusiastic or over-the-top in their praise. The dressmaker nods as if satisfied, like Keith’s just given her the highest compliment. 

“We’ll be able to get this in black and red, right?” He looks at her in the mirror’s reflection as she kneels down, working on the next addition to Keith’s ensemble. “Those are our wedding colors.” 

The Olkari pauses, frowning as she hems up one of the traditional stockings for Keith’s ears. “No, we can’t do that.” 

“What?” Keith asks. “Why not?” 

“Forgive me,” she says. “I thought Princess Allura and her steward would have informed you. You see, these dresses must be worn in one singular color. To mix colors is bad luck and in poor taste,” she says with a shake of her head. “We can make them all red or all black, though.”

“Oh,” Keith says. “That’s not too bad,” he says again, glancing at Shiro. “Black for Shiro and red for me, then.”

“No,” the Olkari says. “You will both need to wear black or both wear red. You can’t do one or the other.” She frowns, looking apologetic and vaguely uncomfortable by Keith’s obvious displeasure. “I’m sorry, it’s— it’s tradition.”

“Right,” Keith says, voice sounding wooden. He’s surprised by his own reaction. “Tradition. Guess we can’t do color accents, then? I could wear a red flower.” 

She shakes her head. Keith’s not the least bit surprised. It knocks the wind from his sails, in any case. The color scheme was one of the few things Keith actually wanted to do, one of the few things he and Shiro asked for.

He’s surprised that it bothers him so much. 

Then again, they also have five more outfits to try on. Maybe they’ll be able to get their colors then, instead.

“Maybe… not green?” Keith says tentatively and that, at least, the Olkari agrees to. He doesn’t really care for himself in green. Shiro looks beautiful in everything— somehow the high collar is still doing it for him, like Shiro’s some sort of mossy vampire— but not even green is quite his color. 

By the end of the fittings, all their outfits are decided— and they’re all singular-color. Mixing and matching is out of the question, the Olkari insists. Keith’s given up on trying to determine if that’s just artistic vision or an actual insult to the universal community at large.

Keith sighs. He half-expects that next Saturday morning, Allura will inform them all that singular color outfits are a great insult to some alien race or another. He’s given up on keeping track of it all. 

“Let’s go with red,” Shiro says. “Black is too dreary.” 

A fully red wardrobe. Not a piece of black in sight. But at least Shiro’s offering his own suggestions instead of shrugging and saying he doesn’t mind either way. 

Keith holds Shiro’s hand as they depart from the meeting, feeling deflated. He feels Shiro’s worry radiating off him in waves and it just makes Keith feel worse, the guilt simmering. He knows he’s being moody over something that shouldn’t matter, and yet it still unsettles him, twisting and roiling in his gut. 

He shouldn’t be so disappointed. He shouldn’t be so moody about it. In the end, it’s not a big deal. And, really, it’s not as if Shiro’s given any indication of being super disappointed. He’d shrugged, smiled, and accepted the changes like he does all the changes. It’s Shiro’s continued lackluster response, even for things he actually said he wanted, that makes Keith feel a little crazy.

As they climb up onto Shiro’s hoverbike to head back home, Shiro helps guide Keith’s hands around his middle to hold tight. 

“Hang on, sweetheart,” Shiro warns. 

And then he guns the engine, speeding away from the main streets and out into the wilderness. Keith shouts in surprise, clinging to Shiro. He tries to shout to him over the rush of wind, asking where they’re going, but Shiro either doesn’t hear or decides not to answer.

They speed through the dust of the desert, following the familiar path they know so well. Shiro doesn’t take them out towards their usual spot, though, and instead hugs the caverns’ walls, following the through-line of ancient rivers. 

When they soar over the cliff, Keith knows to expect it and he whoops his delight, squeezing Shiro tight as they go flying. Despite his mood, this part always makes him feel exhilarated— like they’re flying their Lions again, like nothing can stop them. 

They end up in a new spot, far away from their usual spot in the mountains. Shiro lets the hoverbike glide to halt near the steady stream of a river, a slow trickle this far into summer. 

“You looked like you wanted to relax,” Shiro says, taking Keith’s hand and helping them both hop down off the hoverbike. He tugs on Keith’s hand, leading them towards the dried-up riverbed. 

“Yeah,” Keith says, and isn’t sure what else to say. “Good idea.” 

They wander along it for a few feet, Keith watching Shiro toe at a few stones before kicking them skidding into the stream. It’s a cheerful scene, the little river bending through the pebbles, just a splash of greenery and a few distant birds bobbing along the shore opposite them. 

Keith knows that Shiro will let Keith speak when he’s ready, if he’s ready to speak. He won’t goad Keith or force Keith to share if he isn’t ready. Keith’s always loved that about Shiro, how perfectly he understands and accepts him.

And so they walk in silence for a time. They don’t stray too far from the hoverbike, but instead focus on following the curve of the babbling stream. The birds hoot at them, bobbing away as they get too close, but it’s otherwise a quiet scene with just the two of them holding hands. 

Keith sucks in a sharp breath and finally asks, after the lengthy silence, “Why should I give a shit about colors? It shouldn’t bother me.” 

“It’s okay to be disappointed,” Shiro says, his smile understanding. 

“Aren’t you disappointed?” Keith asks. He kicks a stone. 

They pause in their walk so Shiro can stoop down to pick up a few pebbles. There’s not enough water to skip stones, so he tosses them one by one into the river with one hand, holding Keith’s snugly with the other. 

“It’s okay,” Shiro says. “They’re only colors.” 

Keith nods, frowning as he looks down at their feet as they walk along the stream, following its natural curve.

He knows Shiro’s right, and it just makes him feel worse for his own response, for feeling so stupid and annoyed by it all. Mostly, though, he hates that Shiro is so calm. Usually Shiro’s steadiness is grounding, helpful and reassuring to him. Now it just leaves him feeling frustrated and uncertain. 

“We have each other,” Shiro says. “Colors don’t matter.”

“Right.” 

“Besides, I’d marry you naked if necessary,” Shiro says, punctuating the words with a toss of a pebble. 

Keith snorts. It’s not quite enough to make him laugh, but he can see the attempt in the flash of Shiro’s smile. 

Keith says, “There’s an idea.”

Shiro laughs. “Think it’s too late to request it? Imagine where we could put the rings if we do that.”

Keith recognizes Shiro’s jokes for the distractions they’re meant to be. It doesn’t take from the emptiness aching inside him, but he does laugh this time, shoving his shoulder against Shiro’s. It sends them stumbling a few steps towards the water, a few birds rocketing away with warning chirps to their brethren. 

Shiro slings his arm around Keith’s waist to keep them steady and to keep them from tripping into the water outright. They laugh again, clinging to each other. 

It’s Keith who untangles himself from around Shiro, taking his hand again and resuming their walk. They fall into silence again, although it feels less suffocating to Keith this time around. 

“Remember,” Shiro says after that lengthy silence, the only sound around them their boots on the earth, the water twisting near them. “It’s for a good cause. We’re helping morale, right? Boosting diplomacy.”

“I never would have thought so many people would give a shit about a stupid wedding,” Keith admits. If he’s honest, if he’s truly honest, he’s never given a shit about weddings. He never wanted one. He never wanted to get married.

He never thought he’d ever be worth marrying, anyway. 

And maybe he still isn’t. When he isn’t in a rush of work and wedding planning, the thought comes to him: he doesn’t deserve Shiro. He doesn’t deserve anyone. He knows that. 

He’s just Keith. He’s just a nobody. Sometimes, he still can’t believe that Shiro loves him back. He still can’t believe he gets to have this. 

Keith’s gotten very good about ignoring those thoughts, as some variation of them have plagued him for years. But whenever he lets himself stop and think, the thoughts rise up slow and suffocating. 

A small part of him is still waiting for it to end. A bigger part of him is waiting for the day that Shiro realizes he can do better and leaves. It’s unfair and he knows that Shiro never would. And maybe that’s the worst thought: that Shiro would feel he _had_ to stay with him even when he no longer wanted to. 

“I think people like the sense of normalcy,” Shiro says, squeezing his hand. “I mean, Allura told me our guest list jumped to one thousand the other day.”

Keith nearly trips over his shoelaces. “ _What?_ ”

“I know,” Shiro says faintly. “And that’s an estimate on the conservative side. But… yeah. I mean. People want to be there because it’s important to them.”

“Or because they think it’ll get them more famous or something,” Keith mutters. He’s heard horror stories about celebrity weddings— something he never paid much attention and certainly never expected he’d get wrapped up in. 

“Or that,” Shiro says. 

“I just want your wedding to be perfect,” Keith says, admitting it in a quiet voice.

“Our wedding,” Shiro reminds him. 

Keith shakes his head. “Right.” 

Despite the uphill battle, Keith is still determined to give that to Shiro. To give him the perfect wedding he deserves— a perfect wedding he can love and enjoy, that’s perfect because _he’s_ perfect. 

“But the point is…” Shiro says. “I think it’s clear this wedding is a bit beyond us now.” He shrugs. “And that’s okay, right?”

“Is it?” Keith asks. 

Shiro shrugs again, a quick rise and fall of his shoulder. “Neither of us had really set ideas for our wedding, after all. And we still have the venue and the rings.” 

“Right,” Keith says. He perks up a little. “And the Galra sword fight!” 

“Yeah!” Shiro agrees, laughing, his eyes sparkling with actual excitement. He squeezes Keith’s hand. “That will be fun.”

It eases some of the tension from Keith’s shoulders. He stoops down to grab a handful of pebbles, tossing them into the stream in one scattered clump of little splashes. The birds fly away, utterly bewildered and done with Keith’s nonsense. 

“And our vows,” Keith says quieter, watching the water. He looks up at Shiro, smiling, feeling fuzzy on the inside. 

“And our vows,” Shiro says. He lifts Keith’s hand and kisses the back of it, then each knuckle.

That, more than anything, settles Keith. In the end, Keith thinks— he’s selfish. There’s still a big part of him that’s waiting for Shiro to realize he can do better, to not want to be with Keith. But Keith will be damned if he loses Shiro. He’ll be damned if he doesn’t get to have Shiro for the rest of his life. 

He'll say as much in his vows, he thinks. He vows to Shiro every day— unyielding and undying loyalty, love, devotion. He is Shiro’s and that will never change. 

He yanks his hand away from Shiro’s lips just so he can replace it with his mouth, kissing Shiro with unbearable gentleness. He swallows the sigh Shiro breathes out against his mouth, his own quiet exaltation. 

-

“There’s no way we can have the wedding in the mountains,” Allura says that next Saturday, her hands twisting together. “I’m so sorry.” 

“Oh,” Shiro says. There’s a brief pause in which he should make some sort of reaction, but his expression stays neutral. “Of course. Too many people?”

“The only place that could possibly house us all is the Garrison grounds. Which they’ve…” She pauses. “Graciously offered to the Paladins of Voltron.”

“So they can have some extra propaganda material. Big old posters with our face to recruit more soldiers,” Keith mutters. His heart feels all twisted up, staring at Shiro and waiting for his reaction. “Great.” 

“I’m sorry,” Allura says. “I tried so hard to find another solution— I know how important the location was for you.”

“It’s probably for the best,” Shiro says with a small smile. He finishes pouring out the tea for everyone, setting the tray with the pot and cups at the center of the table. “We were worried about the effect it’d have on the ecosystem to have so many people at once out there. This is for the best.” 

No one moves to take the cups until Pidge sighs and plucks up the one closest to her. Shiro sits down and picks his own cup, taking a long sip. He looks fine, all things considered, and Keith feels his agitation grow. 

“The Garrison though?” Keith asks, arms crossed. He’s made a point to not set foot on the Garrison since the war’s end. It’s been a matter of pride.

Honestly, he doesn’t love the idea of breaking that vow now. 

Shiro takes one look at Keith’s expression and then quickly turns back to Allura. “Is there any way we could find another venue? Maybe someplace that isn’t in Arizona, even? Who says we have to get married here?” 

Keith feels his heart give a little leap into his throat. He reaches out beneath the table and finds Shiro’s hand. Shiro’s quick to tangle their fingers together, giving it a small squeeze. 

“That’s just the thing…” Allura says with a sigh, unlocking her PADD and showing them the front page headline: _Galaxy Garrison of Earth Pleased to Announce Upcoming Paladin Wedding._

Keith lets go of Shiro’s hand only so he can yank the PADD towards him to read it more carefully. “What—” 

Shiro scoots closer to read along with Keith. 

“They— they made an announcement?” Keith asks, scanning the first few lines of the article. _The Galaxy Garrison’s officials announced Friday that they would host the event of the season featuring two distinguished veterans—_

Keith grips the PADD tight. No mention of Keith’s dishonorable discharge or their fumbling handling of Shiro’s entire situation. But of course they wouldn’t. _Distinguished veterans._ Keith wants to throw the dadapad through a window. 

Shiro’s the one to take the article from him, pulling the dadapad from his loosened grip and handing it back to Allura silently. His hand falls onto Keith’s shoulder then, giving it one little squeeze. It’s almost enough to comfort Keith, but he can feel the tension building through his body. He leans back into Shiro’s hold, seeking some comfort. 

“They announced to the media that you had accepted their offer,” Allura says with a deep frown. “It’s possible we could rescind or reject it, but—” She bites her lip. “It could potentially look bad. And the Galaxy Garrison is well-loved across Earth and to many Coalition members.” 

It's true that it’s mostly personal feelings that severed the Paladins from the Garrison. Keith certainly knows that his feelings, while biased towards protectiveness for Shiro, are also mostly personal and emotional-based arguments rather than anything purely objective. 

But still. 

“We can’t. Because diplomacy,” Keith mutters, the word sounding like chalk on his tongue. “Right.” 

-

Really, Keith thinks, he can handle all these minor annoyances. They do annoy him, but it’ll be worth it if it means Shiro’s happy in the end. He can handle the stupid changing of the colors, the changing of the venue, the changing of the things they’d agreed upon. The Coalition traditions are difficult to keep track of, but the idea is still sound, Keith thinks. 

That much he can handle. 

But then Coran looks up from his list of new items for their wedding and says, “We can’t have the rings.” 

In the time since Shiro suggested his grandfathers’ rings, Shiro went to visit his parents and unearthed the rings from storage, polishing and refitting them to fit him and Keith. They’re beautiful rings, simple and unadorned. Keith had liked the simplicity of them, the woven bands sparkling in the light when Shiro showed him. 

And now, apparently, they can’t have them because not only is it untraditional for grooms to exchange rings in at least seven different cultures, it’s deeply offensive in at least three more. 

“So no rings,” Shiro says, pausing at the kitchen sink, sponge in hand. 

He says it with that same neutral tone and silence follows his statement. Keith stands from the table, ready to cross the room and go to him. But Shiro’s expression doesn’t change, doesn’t splinter. 

It’s the last big thing they actually wanted, the last thing that Shiro specifically requested about his wedding. And he receives the news like he would news of a meeting being delayed by five minutes. Not a big deal at all. 

Keith, though, whips around towards Coran. “The rings are the _one thing_ Shiro asked for!” 

He knows it isn’t Coran’s fault. He can feel the Paladins’ shock at his outburst. Keith’s hands curl into fists before he forces them to flatten out, leaning heavily on the table. 

“They’re important,” Keith says, trying to keep his voice from cracking in his frustration. “We have to have them.” 

“But the Tranluvians…” Coran says. 

“Fuck the Tranluvians! The rings stay.” 

“Keith,” Shiro says behind him, voice gentle. “It’s fine. It’s not a big deal.” 

Keith whips around then, glaring at Shiro across the kitchen, standing there looking unfairly pretty with a sponge in his hand and his hair just the slightest bit disheveled because it’s still too damn early in the morning and this is just another Saturday in a long string of Saturdays where they don’t get to sleep in, don’t get to have fun, don’t get to do _anything_ but what other people want.

Keith never cared about weddings, still doesn’t care about weddings, but he does care about being strong-armed into doing something he doesn’t want to do because _diplomacy_ and because _universal good will._

Mostly, maybe he just wants Shiro to be selfish for a change. 

“Yeah, Shiro, it is a big deal!” Keith snaps.

The Paladins have all gone silent around the table, staring at the two of them with wide eyes. Even Lance fails to say anything scathing or distracting. 

Shiro’s mouth thins. He doesn’t look angry. He doesn’t even look taken aback by Keith’s outburst. He turns back towards the sink, setting down his sponge and plucking up the dish towel, drying off his hands before he turns back to Keith. 

It’s a testament to Shiro’s lingering command on all of them that he could do something so mundane and still look authoritative, that in the time he’s done this not a single one of them moves or says anything. 

And then they watch as Shiro, just as carefully, folds the tea-towel back up and sets it down on the counter. 

“Keith,” he says. “They’re only rings.” 

Keith flushes with embarrassment. He _knows_ they’re only rings. He knows.

“We can have them for after the ceremony,” Shiro says. “We don’t need them for the wedding itself. It’s okay.” 

He says it kindly, like he’s trying to reassure Keith, but Keith feels scolded. He hunches into himself, feeling like a child again. Shame floods through him, frustration at his own responses and his own apparent distress. 

He never cared about weddings. This shouldn’t bother him. But it _does_.

“What are we exchanging instead?” Shiro asks Coran, clearly content to let the conversation progress. 

“Shiro,” Keith says, insisting, hating that he’s insisting in front of their friends like this. “The rings were important to you. I—” 

“They weren’t the most important,” Shiro says, interrupting gently but insistently. Keith hates it. He wants to reach out and shake his fiancé, wants to demand, _Why don’t you care—?_

The stress builds inside Keith. That familiar, ever-present anxiety twists and roils in his gut, threatening to bubble up and over. He hunches further into himself, visibly sulking. But he has nothing else to say. He slumps down into his chair and crosses his arms.

The Paladins shift, glancing between themselves in an awkward, silent exchange. Keith can’t exactly blame them. 

Shiro sits back down at the table. He touches Keith’s elbow, gently, but Keith doesn’t react. 

Shiro is silent for a long moment. Then he clears his throat and turns back to Coran. “Coran?” 

Coran fumbles as he smooths out his list and then starts to explain the never-ending changes to their agenda and traditions list. Something from Olkari is out and something from Iceat is in. 

“It’s not like any of this matters,” Keith says about five minutes in, interrupting Coran mid-description of an Altean traditional jumping-jack. 

“Keith,” Shiro says, and at last he sounds pained this time as he turns to look at him. The other Paladins go quiet again and Keith feels himself flush in embarrassment. 

“It’s all going to change next week, anyway. And then it’ll change the week after. It’ll change the night before the wedding. Fuck, it’s going to change during the wedding, too.” 

“Keith—” Shiro says.

“So why do we even bother talking about it all? What’s the fucking point?” 

“Oh, Keith,” Allura says, sounding sympathetic, and that’s somehow worse of all that he’s behaving like a child in front of his friends. “We don’t know if it’ll continue to be quite so chaotic…” 

“Yeah,” Hunk says, clearly trying to sound cheery. “We don’t know for sure!” 

Keith scoffs. “With our luck so far, the next thing you know, it’s going to be forbidden that Mom can attend. She’s _Galra_ after all. Can’t look like we’re playing _favorites_ , so let’s make a wedding party full of strangers just to make sure.” 

“Baby,” Shiro says, brow pinching. 

“Hell,” Keith says, “I’m surprised that nobody’s made a big stink about two men marrying or two humans marrying or two Paladins marrying because isn’t that _far_ too much favoritism?” 

He doesn’t wait for an answer after that, pushing back from the table with a loud clatter of his chair. 

“Whatever,” he says. “It doesn’t matter what I think. It’s not like this is _our_ wedding, anyway.” 

The Paladins flinch. Shiro reaches for him. “Keith—” 

Keith feels like a goddamn child as he storms from the kitchen. He makes a quick exit, shoving his feet into his boots and pushing out the backdoor to exit into the sandy wasteland of the desert beyond their backyard. He curls his arms around himself, wanting to scream at himself. He feels like a stupid, pathetic failure. 

He knows Shiro’s going to follow him. He sucks in a sharp breath when he hears the door open behind him and hears Shiro’s steady footfalls as he approaches. 

“Keith,” Shiro says, his hand ghosting across Keith’s shoulder, testing his welcome before settling it more firmly when Keith doesn’t jerk away. “Baby.” 

“Don’t lecture me, Shiro.”

“I wasn’t going to,” Shiro says gently. He steps to Keith’s side, tilting to look at Keith’s face. But Keith turns his face away before their eyes can meet, feeling pathetic and misty-eyed. 

Shiro makes a sound. Keith rubs at his face quickly, willing himself to stay calm and not be so stupid. 

“Sweetheart,” Shiro says, sounding mournful. “Baby, they’re only rings.” 

“It’s not about the damn rings,” Keith says. 

Shiro is quiet for a moment, his hand heavy on Keith’s shoulder. He shifts again, stepping so that he’s facing Keith instead. Keith can’t quite manage to look at him, but he does breathe out a little as Shiro’s other hand comes up, cupping his hip. 

“Why don’t you tell me what it is about, then?” Shiro asks. 

Keith sucks in a sharp breath and then lets it back out again, trying to calm his stampeding heart. “This is all— it’s too damn much.”

He pauses. Shiro is quiet and then, when he’s sure he isn’t going to interrupt Keith, he says, quietly prompting, “Alright.” 

“Who needs a thousand people at their wedding?” Keith asks. “Why did we decide to do all this shit at all?” 

“Because it’s—” 

“Diplomatic, peaceful… whatever. Fuck,” Keith spits. He scuffs his boot on the ground, kicking up sand and dust. “I don’t give a shit about these people. What was wrong with just making it us?” 

He thinks about those first initial plans— he and Shiro, out in the desert with their friends and family, exchanging rings and wearing their colors. It was short, simple, and what they wanted. He can’t even recognize that anymore in what the warping, growing wedding has become. 

It's not their wedding. 

Shiro squeezes his hip, stepping closer. He looks ready to reassure, to tell Keith that he’s not a stupid child, but Keith isn’t ready to be reassured. He isn’t ready to go back inside and pretend that this wedding is anything he’s looking forward to. 

“Keith—” 

“Why don’t you care more?” Keith asks, his voice cracking on the question. And isn’t that the heart of it, really? “Everything keeps changing and now the three things we actually wanted are gone! Next week, all Galra stuff will be gone, too.” 

Shiro looks stunned for a moment, blinking as he processes the words. Keith hunches into himself, crossing his arms and wishing the earth would just swallow him up and make him disappear. 

The world continues around them, the sun beaming down, the birds chirping as they flit from cactus to cactus in the distance. 

Keith scuffs his boot against the ground again. 

“Why doesn’t it _bother you_?” Keith shouts, voice cracking. “It’s not your wedding.” 

“Our wedding,” Shiro says faintly. 

“It’s not _our_ wedding, either,” Keith says, clenching his hands tight against his biceps. He looks up at Shiro and snaps, “I should never have fucking asked you to get married.” 

As soon as he says the words, he wishes he could snatch them back. Shiro’s expression turns devastated in the blink of an eye, like Keith’s just physically punched him in the gut. He might actually make a sound, soft and lost to the wind ruffling through their backyard. 

“That’s not—” Keith says, the words gasping out at him as he watches Shiro’s expression crumble. “I didn’t mean it like that—” His anger sizzles out just as quickly as it came, slamming through him like a flash flood— far too quick, but entirely too devastating. He feels, instead, a cold dread build inside him. 

He reaches for Shiro even though Shiro makes no move to step away from him. Still, Keith clings, feeling pathetic. 

“Shiro—” 

Shiro takes a deep breath and then covers his hands over Keith’s, squeezing. 

“I never wanted to get married,” Shiro admits, his grip so tight on Keith’s hands. 

Shiro looks like he wants to say more but Keith just stares at him. “ _What_?” 

Shiro flinches and then smiles apologetically, slightly pained at the edges. “I never really thought I’d get married. I never really wanted to.” 

Keith flounders at the words, hearing them but uncomprehending. He thinks he must look like a fish, gaping at Shiro. Shiro’s smile fades into something more serious, although there’s still an earnestness to his expression. He refuses to let go of Keith’s hands, as if he fears that Keith might run away. 

“Then—” Keith cries. “Then why did you say yes?” 

“Because you asked me to and I want you to be happy.”

Keith shakes his head, absolutely horrified. “ _Shiro._ ” He wants to laugh. He wants to scream. Mostly, he just wants to cry. “That’s not a good reason!” 

“What better reason is there?” Shiro asks. “I want to be with you forever. I already planned on being with you forever,” Shiro says quietly. “I don’t need to be married to you to know that’s true. I don’t need a wedding to prove it. That’s not what’s important to me.” 

Keith stares at him, mouth still open like a gaping fish. He thinks his ears might be burning red, although he’s not sure if it’s from blushing, from lingering anger or the sun beating down on them. 

“Wh—” 

“Being with you is what’s most important to me,” Shiro says. “No matter what that looks like, Keith.” 

Keith blinks rapidly, fighting back against the ridiculous urge to cry. It’s so stupid. He shouldn’t be bothered by all of this as much as he is and yet _he is._ Shiro’s words are kind, because Shiro is always kind, and it threatens to undo Keith entirely. 

He makes a sound, lurching forward. He doesn’t quite hug Shiro, instead shoving his face hard against his chest and sucking in a shaky breath. He isn’t relaxed, though, feeling tensed up and the beginnings of a headache pounding at his temples.

Shiro rests a hand at the back of Keith’s neck, cradling him close. 

“I want to be with you forever, too,” Keith says in a little voice. “But— but you should care about this more. It’s important.” 

“Why?” Shiro asks. “It’s just a party.” 

And really, Keith agrees with that. He knows that. But he can’t fight the feeling of failure inside him— that he’s failed Shiro, that Shiro deserves better than this. Shiro will always deserve better than this. 

“Fuck,” Keith says, shoving away from Shiro, refusing to find comfort in his arms. “I know it shouldn’t bother _me_ so much, okay? I’m just an idiot—” 

“Keith, you’re not—” 

“Why the fuck is it bothering me so much?” Keith asks, rubbing his hands over his face. He feels too keyed up. He wants to fight something. He wants to fight the very universe that’s making him feel this crazy. “It’s— it has to be perfect, okay?” Keith says. “That’s just— that’s how it’s supposed to be.” 

“Baby,” Shiro says gently. “Why are you putting so much pressure on yourself?” 

“Because it’s you! Because you deserve the world, Shiro! Fuck!” 

The words seem to surprise Shiro, which really should just piss Keith off that even after all this time, Shiro still can’t understand that he’s important, that he is _everything_ to Keith. 

Then he glances back towards their house. There are many Paladin faces pressing against the window watching them, but they quickly duck away when Shiro turns. 

They’re still pretty obvious, though. 

Shiro turns back towards Keith, taking his hand. “We should talk this out. Privately. Let’s get out of here, Keith.”


	4. Chapter 4

Keith stays in the backyard as Shiro returns inside, grabbing their windbreakers and the keys to the hoverbike. Keith hears him call to the Paladins, letting them know where they’re going, but Keith doesn’t hear their response. Shiro returns shortly thereafter, herding Keith to the little garage they keep their bikes in. 

Keith feels moody and stupid, but he still climbs up onto the hoverbike to settle at Shiro’s back. He can refuse Shiro nothing, after all. Despite how unsure he feels, it’s easy to wrap his arms around Shiro’s waist and hold on. That, at least, will always be easy. He’d follow Shiro anywhere. 

Shiro takes the familiar path towards their spot. They both know the way there like breathing. It’s a silent drive, the wind whipping at their ears the only sound around them. Keith feels the sting in his eyes despite the goggles but tells himself it’s the wind all the same. 

They don’t take any of the hairpin turns and don’t soar off the cliff. It’s the long way around to their spot, but they get there safely. 

Keith hops off the hoverbike as soon as they park, dusting himself off to give himself something to do, shrugging out of his windbreaker and tossing it back into the open compartment for storage, content to just let the sun beat down on him instead. 

No sense letting it drag on for longer. He turns towards Shiro, watching him strip off his own windbreaker. 

“Okay,” Keith says, arms crossed and hunched into himself, feeling miserable. “Talk. Explain. What do you mean you don’t want to get married?”

“I didn’t say that,” Shiro says, folding up his coat and then Keith’s, tucking them into the compartment. “I said I never thought I’d get married. At first, you know?” 

He looks at Keith like he expects Keith to say something. But Keith really doesn’t know what to say. Everything simmers and swirls inside him. 

He still feels too pathetic. Of course Shiro should be frustrated with him. Shiro deserves better than a sullen fiancé like Keith. 

Shiro sighs, scrubbing a hand over his face. He moves back to the hoverbike and plucks out the old blanket they keep stashed away inside for cold nights. He whips it out a few times to unfurl it. Then, gently, he sets it down, fluttering before it settles over the hot sand. 

When he sits, he looks up at Keith expectantly. He even pats the spot beside him, as if there’s any question that Keith’s going to go to him. He’s already walking, approaching and sitting down beside him. 

“Keith,” Shiro says, reaching for Keith’s hand. “I wouldn’t have said yes to you if I wasn’t willing to do it.” 

“Yeah, thanks for your fucking sacrifice.” 

“Keith,” Shiro says softly, sounding pained. 

“Sorry,” Keith mutters. He sighs out, frustrated with himself. “Fuck, I don’t know why this is bothering me so much. It’s not like I give a shit about weddings, either! I just want to be with you!”

“So, we still want the same thing,” Shiro reminds him. 

Keith scrubs at his eyes, trying to banish the urge to cry. Those familiar feelings boil up inside him— failure, guilt, certainty that he’s not enough. It crushes down on him like a lead weight. 

He knows what Shiro would say if he said as much. He knows. 

It should make him happy to hear how casually Shiro says these things— that he wants to be with Keith forever, that he _plans_ on having that forever. It’s a hard-won victory that they should be together in the universe like this, a universe that seemed to always fight to keep them separated. 

He should be happy that, despite it all, Shiro just wants to be with him. 

“Keith,” Shiro says in a soft murmur.

Keith sucks in a sharp breath and lets it back out again. “I’m just— I just wanted to give you the perfect wedding, Shiro. It’s your wedding! You’re only getting one!”

“Keith,” Shiro says. “It’s _our_ wedding. You need to stop calling it just my wedding.” He squeezes Keith’s hand tight. “We’re in this together. You’re— you’re doing too much for me already. I can tell how hard you’re trying… but it really isn’t anything that I need. I just need you.” 

“It needs to be perfect,” Keith insists. 

The sun beams down on them, making Keith start to sweat despite his long familiarity with the desert heat. He squints down at their hands. 

Shiro breathes out. “I don’t need or want perfect.”

“You deserve all the best things in the universe,” Keith says, ready to die on that particular hill. He’s crossed the universe for Shiro. He’s gone above and beyond to bring him home, to make sure he’s happy and safe. He should be able to win the battle against a stupid fucking wedding. 

“I have that with you.”

Keith shakes his head, yanking his hand free from Shiro’s in favor of wrapping his arms around his knees. He draws them up to his chest, curling in tight into a ball. He shoves his face down against his knees, hiding his face entirely from Shiro. 

“Keith,” Shiro says gently. His hands touch Keith’s shins, tracing upwards and back down again. “You know I love you, right? You’re perfect to me.”

The words are always a balm to Keith’s soul, but he’s feeling stubborn enough to resist even that. “I’m not.”

“You are,” Shiro says, in that quiet, insistent way of his. In the end, Shiro always could out-stubborn Keith, no matter how worthy a battle. “And even if you weren’t, I love you.” 

Keith sniffs, looking up from his bent knees to meet Shiro’s eyes. He’s sure he must look utterly miserable. 

“I love you, too.” 

Shiro scoots closer, cupping one of Keith’s knees with his hand and squeezing. “I… you know I’ve spent a long time thinking I’m bad at relationships. You know I never— I didn’t think I’d ever get this. Not with you. Not with anyone.” 

Keith’s heart cracks in his chest. He reaches out and snatches up Shiro’s hands, lacing their fingers together. “I didn’t think I’d get it, either.” 

“But we found each other,” Shiro reminds him. He smiles, his expression gentle. “We saved each other.”

Keith bites the inside of his cheek but nods. His heart is pounding. 

“Did you think I didn’t care at all?” Shiro asks. “About you?” He flinches. “I… I guess I’ve been kind of cavalier about the wedding, but baby, that’s nothing to do with you. I’m marrying you at the end of the day and it doesn’t matter to me how it happens, only that it does.” 

“I keep waiting for you to realize I’m… I’m not—” 

“Keith,” Shiro says, undoubtedly guessing how Keith’s considering ending that sentence. 

Keith shakes his head, ducking his head so his hair slips forward to hide his eyes. He feels Shiro shift closer, tugging gently on his hands. 

When Keith dares to look up at Shiro, his expression looks devastated. That same sort of sadness radiating off him as it did in their backyard, like it’s physically painful to him. 

“Keith,” Shiro whispers. “You are _everything_ to me.” 

“I’m—”

“Everything to me,” Shiro says again. “You will always be everything. You’re— Oh, Keith. Don’t you know you’re the love of my life?” 

He whispers that last part, the sound caught up in the wind. But he doesn’t stop holding Keith’s hands, squeezing so tight that it’s nearly painful. Holding on so tight, like even he can’t fathom a universe in which they let go. 

Keith shakes his head, squeezing his hands back. Keith’s never going to let go. Never.

“I— I know that, Shiro.” 

He does. He does. Even if Keith feels the doubt swirling inside him constantly, he knows Shiro means it when he says he loves him. He knows Shiro would never lie about that, would never say that just to say it. If he says it, it’s because he means it. 

“Honestly,” Shiro says. “Half the time, I’m just waiting for you to realize you can do so much better than me.” 

“What?” Keith asks, eyes bugging open. “Like hell I can!” 

Shiro laughs, his eyes crinkling even as the smile turns sad. “I’ve spent so much time thinking I’m broken, Keith. Thinking you deserve so much better— someone who isn’t a monster, someone who isn’t— shhh, I know,” he says when Keith looks like he’s going to protest. “I know I’m not, but you know I still… feel it. I keep waiting for you to find someone better.” 

“I keep waiting for you to realize that about me, too,” Keith says. “I keep— I’m just _me_. Why would you want to marry me?”

“Because I love you,” Shiro says instantly.

“Yeah, well, me to you!” Keith says. 

They sit like that, staring at each other. Shiro’s the one to break first, his mouth cracking into a disbelieving smile before he starts laughing.

“Are we idiots?”

“Obviously,” Keith mutters, and then he laughs too. It’s been a long time since he’s actually laughed like this, he thinks, the sound bubbly and spontaneous. 

But then, Shiro always brings this out of him. 

“I guess, I just,” Keith starts and then stops, thinking. He considers his words. “I just… wanted this to be good for you. Because it’d mean you’re happy.”

“Sweetheart,” Shiro says. “You know me. You know I’m going to be happy no matter what. Because it’s you.”

Keith blinks a few times to clear away the sudden urge to cry, nodding his head. “Y- yeah. I get that. I do.” 

“I’m so sorry I made you feel like I didn’t care,” Shiro says. 

“Well, you _don’t_ care. About the wedding, I mean.” 

“But,” Shiro says, “I care about _you_. You… I’ve seen how hard you’ve been trying, but it’s all been about me, Keith. To you, it’s ‘my’ wedding. It’s about making me happy. But what about you?”

Keith blinks at Shiro, taken aback. “Wh—” 

“It’s just,” Shiro says, “you weren’t excited about it. I didn’t… want to put more pressure on you.” He cringes. “But I guess I was without realizing it. I’m sorry.” 

“It wasn’t— it isn’t your fault,” Keith says. “I guess— I mean, you’re right. I wasn’t stressing out about giving you what you wanted.”

“But I wasn’t telling you what I wanted.” 

“No,” Keith says. “But I guess I wasn’t telling _you_ what I wanted, either.” 

“Guess not,” Shiro says, but he’s smiling. Laughing inwardly at their idiocy, Keith thinks, and he’s not wrong about it. It’s still something they’re learning— how to tell one another what it is they need. 

It seems weddings are no different. 

“So… what now?” Shiro asks. 

Keith shakes his hands free from Shiro so he can crawl on his hands and knees over towards him. Shiro’s quick to accept him, scooping him into his arms and pressing their mouths together. “I love you,” Keith says once they part, his voice soft and whispering. “I love you so much, Shiro.” 

“I love you, baby,” Shiro says and kisses him again. 

That, at least, is easy. They know this language. He knows the gentle weight of Shiro’s arms around him, the gentle press of their mouths together. He knows what it feels like when Shiro licks into his mouth, when he sucks on his tongue or scrapes his teeth across his bottom lip. He knows the unspoken language of Shiro’s love for him like this, the way their lips spell out their devotion. 

He could sink into Shiro’s hold like this and never tire. He could kiss Shiro until the end of the universe and it’d still not be enough to show just how deeply and vastly he loves him. How much Shiro loves him back. Just how much, despite all of Keith’s insecurities, he _knows_ that Shiro loves him back. 

After everything they’ve been through, how can it be anything else but that? 

Keith breaks the kiss with a gasp, shivering and then laughing when Shiro lifts his hands to cup his face. His Altean hand is massive, as it always is, making Keith feel dwarfed. He leans into the touch, eyes shutting and his lips quirking into a kiss-swollen smile. 

“You are the best part of me,” Shiro tells him.

“Bullshit,” Keith says back. He laughs. “But— thank you.” 

Shiro kisses him again, slower this time, much softer. Just a brush of their mouths together. Keith sighs and, finally, feels like he can relax. 

He feels sweaty still from the beating sun, the sweat from his adrenaline cooling, too, as he feels less like he might rattle out of his skin. He strokes his fingertips over Shiro’s cheek, just to touch him, just to feel him near. Shiro’s smile is a slow unfurling thing, but no less beautiful— like all the flowers in the desert. 

“I think,” Keith says, confessing, “I don’t actually give a shit about this wedding, either.” 

“Yeah,” Shiro says. He turns his head to kiss Keith’s fingertips. 

“As long as I have you,” Keith says. “What else do I need?”

“Yeah, Keith.” Shiro laughs. 

It’s easy to press back into Shiro’s touch after that, sinking into the kisses. They do a lot less talking, falling back onto the blanket in a tangle of limbs. It feels cathartic, almost, to just kiss Shiro like this, to just hold him and feel lighter for it all. 

He didn’t realize how heavy a weight it was until it was gone. He feels like he could float away if Shiro weren’t holding onto him. 

It’s easy like that, in their spot, to get lost in Shiro. 

Time moves like that between them, the sun shifting across the sky. Keith almost wishes they’d set up the blanket on the other side of the hoverbike, so that they could find some blessed shade from the hoverbike, a shadow skittering across their blanket. But Keith’s hardly paying attention to that in favor of pushing Shiro’s shirt up and feeling his hands all over him, touching him all over. He likes the way Shiro shifts and gasps beneath him, the way he trembles and arches up. 

It feels good, especially when Shiro’s big palm cups his ass, squeezes, and drags him in. The kiss turns much dirtier after that. 

Once they pause to breathe, sweaty and with Shiro’s shirt rucked up, Keith ready to lay worship to him, his hand resting against his belly and threatening to drift lower, Shiro gasps out, “Will you marry me?” 

It makes Keith pause, surprised, and then he frowns. “We’re already getting married.” 

Shiro laughs, shaking his head, curling his fingers around Keith’s wrist. “I mean— you asked me, but I never actually asked you back.”

“Oh,” Keith says, blinking. 

Shiro licks his lips, his face golden and soft in the afternoon light, his hair stuck to his forehead. He’s never looked more handsome. He’s never looked so sweet. 

“So— so I’m asking now.”

Keith lifts his hands away from Shiro in favor of crawling up the length of his body, caging him in. He kisses Shiro sloppily, waiting until he hears the softest pitch of Shiro’s whine as he presses down against him, as he drags his teeth hard over the swell of his bottom lip. 

“… I’ll marry you,” Keith whispers against his mouth once they part for breath. “I’ll marry you in one of the shittiest, biggest ceremonies imaginable. I’ll marry you even if they take away all the shit we like and leave us with— whatever is left.” 

Shiro laughs, delighted and heartfelt. It heaves his whole chest and belly and Keith feels it vibrating through him where he’s draped across Shiro. Shiro wraps his arms tight around Keith and keeps him tethered there, the two of them laughing and stupid in the desert together. In their spot, together. 

“Good,” Shiro says. 

“Very,” Keith agrees and kisses along Shiro’s jaw, peppering kisses along the sharp line of it. He nuzzles at his ear, sighing out and sinking against him, feeling relaxed for the first time in months. 

Shiro breathes and tugs himself away from the kiss. He blinks up at Keith and then says, with only the deepest of nobility: “I’m ordering pies.” 

“Shiro!” Keith laughs. 

Shiro laughs, too, but his eyes glitter with that familiar stubborn determination that always makes Keith feel a little weak in the knees when it’s directed back towards him. 

He runs his hands up Keith’s back. “Fuck it! They can deal with it when it shows up.”

Keith laughs louder, especially once Shiro’s fingers skim down his side, tickling him. He shoves Shiro’s hands away, grinning. 

“You’ll cause an international incident, Shiro,” Keith says, scolding. 

“We like pie. We wanted pie,” Shiro says, hands running down to the hem of Keith’s shirt then slipping up. “So, we’re getting pie.” 

Keith laughs, wriggling, and lets Shiro coax him out of his shirt. He sits up, his hair spilling forward to frame his face, and Shiro’s grin softens as he drags his eyes over him, drinking him in. Keith preens a little, arching, his hand planted on Shiro’s chest. 

Solemnly, Shiro says, “I want to eat blueberry pie with you, Keith.” 

Keith snorts, laughing. “Don’t say that while looking like you’re going to fuck me.” 

“Maybe I am,” Shiro says. He grabs Keith and rolls them down onto the blanket. He waggles his eyebrows. “Oh, maybe I should order creampie instead.” 

Keith laughs and shoves Shiro away. He’s quick to follow after him, though, hands going to his belt. 

Shiro laughs against his lips, sunbright and perfect, and Keith knows they’re going to be okay. 

-

They linger in their spot for a time, first rocking together, and then cuddling in the afterglow. The sun keeps arcing across the sky, eventually sinking behind the tallest of the mountains and casting them in pleasant shadows that keep the heat from sunburning their exposed skin. 

“We should have brought a snack and water,” Shiro says. 

Keith snorts. “That’s quitter talk, old timer.” 

Shiro laughs as Keith slumps down to kiss him again, much gentler and much more innocent than their activities earlier. Shiro pets his fingers through Keith’s hair, cradling him close. 

They stay there together until the sun starts to set, a perfect shade of red and orange. It’s still hot even this late into the day, but Keith wriggles back into his underwear and pants only so he doesn’t actually get a sunburn right on his ass. 

They’re already a mess, really, smelling of sweat and the desert, but also the lingering scent of sex between them. Keith thinks, privately to himself, that Shiro’s never looked prettier, the way his hair sticks up in places from the sweat and wind, how there’s sand clinging to his shoulder from when they got a little too enthusiastic and rolled off the blanket and into the sand. 

He brushes it away for Shiro. 

Once they’re at least somewhat cleaned up and presentable, Keith crawls between Shiro’s legs and turns around, flopping back against him. He leans his back against Shiro’s chest and sighs as Shiro wraps one arm around him. Together, they watch the sunset, the wind licking through their hair. 

Shiro’s thumb swipes a pleasant arc across Keith’s stomach. It’d almost be ticklish if Keith weren’t feeling quite so boneless and relaxed. He almost feels sleepy, ready to nod off in Shiro’s protective arms. 

“… Tell me what your perfect wedding would be,” Keith says as they watch the sky. He turns his head to glance back at Shiro, meeting his eyes. “And actually answer me. Please.” 

Keith twists a little in Shiro’s hold to look at him better as Shiro smiles, apologetic but sweet. 

“You and me,” Shiro says. “Out here. The wind in our hair, watching the stars come out.” 

Keith breathes out in relief at the response, that he even gets a response at all. “And?” 

“We’d write our own vows, but we’d tell them to each other in private because nobody else has to hear it but us.” Shiro pauses, thinking it over. “Maybe it’d just be you and me at the ceremony, anyway. Maybe we’d just invite our friends to the reception so they can get drunk but don’t have to sit through us being sappy.” 

“Really?” Keith asks, laughing despite himself.

“The reception’s always the best part of a wedding, anyway. The ceremony part is just for us. Ceremonies are pretty boring in general, anyway.” 

Keith can’t necessarily disagree with that, although admittedly he hasn’t been to many weddings in his life. 

Still, he tilts his head. “Won’t they be mad we didn’t invite them to the ceremony?” 

Shiro shrugs. “This is my ideal wedding, right? So, they’d be supportive of us being on our own.” He tilts his head, mimicking Keith’s posture. Splashes of dying sunlight paint across his face in a warm glow. “You’re my universe. Shouldn’t it be all about you?” 

“Or you,” Keith answers, hushed. 

“Our wedding would be right here,” Shiro decides, squeezing his arm around Keith’s middle. “Our spot.”

“Our spot,” Keith says. 

“We’d kiss just as the sun finished setting and I wouldn’t open my eyes again until the stars were out. Wouldn’t stop kissing you until then.” 

There’s a sparkle to Shiro’s eyes, his expression sweet and boyish— he looks genuinely excited by the imaginary wedding, and despite his surety in Shiro’s arms, Keith feels a familiar regret that it isn’t their wedding he’s describing, that it isn’t what they’ll end up having. 

“Just you and me,” Shiro says with a small sigh, his eyes soft as he looks at Keith. 

Keith feels warmed all over and not because of the desert heat. He licks his lips and teases, “Yes, but _who_ are we wearing and what types of flowers are you holding?” 

Shiro laughs. But then actually answers: “We’d be wearing our casual clothes because who cares! We want to be comfortable. We’d have my grandfathers’ rings to exchange, but modified.” 

“Modified?” 

Shiro hums. “Something that’s for you, too? Luxite inscriptions on the inside or something like that.” 

“Oh,” Keith whispers, the sound hushing out of him. “Oh, I like that.” 

“I thought you might.” 

Shiro nods. He rubs his thumb against Keith’s belly and then slides his palm to squeeze his thigh. Keith drops his hand to find his, tangling their fingers together. 

Shiro’s quiet for a moment, studying their hands clasped together. Keith looks, too, envisioning what it will look like when they have matching rings, a symbol. They don’t need the symbol, Keith knows, and really he’s so bad at wearing any sort of accessory that he’s a little worried about fiddling with the ring too much once he gets it, but it’s still a nice thought.

“I’m sorry I made you think that I didn’t even care,” Shiro says quietly. When Keith twists around again to look back at Shiro, his expression is regretful. 

“I’m just stressed,” Keith says. “I— I know you care about me. Just because you don’t like our stupid fucking wedding doesn’t mean you don’t like me.”

“I _love_ you,” Shiro reminds him.

Keith kisses him, just a quick peck. He nuzzles his nose against his cheek. “I know. Me too.” Keith breathes in and then breathes back out again. “And I _hate_ our wedding.”

Shiro laughs, which Keith’s relieved to hear, worried that the words would make Shiro fret instead. 

When he looks at Keith, though, his expression is only warm. “What about you, then?” he asks. “What’s your perfect, ideal wedding?” 

Keith doesn’t even have to think about it. “We’d go to City Hall and sign the paperwork. Boom. Married.” 

Shiro’s expression turns quickly amused, delighted but surprised. It’s a cute face, eyebrows lifting, and his smile torn between incredulous and charmed. But then again, Keith’s familiar with that expression from Shiro— knows very well all the times he has bemused but delighted his boyfriend-turned-fiancé. 

“We’d be married, then we’d go home, and I’d say my vows to you while I’m fucking you.” 

He grins when Shiro snorts a louder laugh, barking it out. “Be serious!” 

“I am!” Keith says. “I mean,” he says, laughing as he tucks a piece of his hair behind his ear. “I know I’m the one who asked you, but I really didn’t need a wedding.” 

Shiro’s mouth twitches. “So why did you ask me?” He tilts his head. “Not that I’m complaining.” 

Keith laughs. “It was… I don’t know, spontaneous?” 

Shiro laughs louder, looking that same mix of delighted and stunned. He squeezes Keith’s hand tight. “Of _course_ it was. Only you would propose spontaneously.” 

“Weddings always felt… really performative to me. And for other people? I only ever wanted to just be with you,” Keith says. He clears his throat. “Call you mine.” 

“Keith,” Shiro says, smiling. “I’m already yours.”

Keith laughs, blushing. It makes Shiro lean in closer and kiss his cheek. 

“I guess we don’t really need to get married, then,” Keith says. 

As soon as he says the words, he realizes it’s true. Realizes that that’s what Shiro kept meaning, this entire time— the wedding didn’t bother him because that wasn’t what mattered. Keith feels foolish for how much he let himself get wrapped up in it. 

“Probably not,” Shiro says with a hum of agreement. “Marriage is kind of for other people, too, I guess. You and I know who we belong to.”

Keith sits with that, nodding once. They settle back into their original position, Keith’s back to Shiro’s chest. They watch the sun sink ever closer to the horizon, blocked out entirely by the mountains now. But the sky is still a riot of colors. 

Now that Keith’s said it, it’s the only thing he can focus on. “Shiro?”

“Mm?”

“Do you think it’s too late to cancel the wedding?” 

Shiro breathes in behind him, chest swelling. Keith leans further back against him, squeezing his hand. 

“We probably could,” Shiro says, voice thoughtful. “Is that what you want, baby?” 

The last dredges of the light tip out from behind the dark mountains. Soon, they’ll see Keith’s favorite part, the way the stars start dotting the distant horizon and sweep forward across the stellar dome, bathing them in starlight. 

“Would you be disappointed?” 

“No,” Shiro says instantly. “What matters is that we’re happy and together. We have that already. Everything else is a bonus.” 

Keith swipes his thumb across Shiro’s knuckles, waiting for the stars. 

“Should I tell Coran?” Shiro asks. 

“No,” Keith says after thinking it over. “No. I… I _do_ want to be married to you. I want to be Keith Shirogane.” He sighs. “It’s worth suffering through this wedding to get that.” 

“Everyone means well,” Shiro says. 

“Of course,” Keith agrees. 

They sit there in the quiet, watching the sky. Venus hugs the horizon, the first unofficial star in the sky. She twinkles in a spark of light. Keith loves the emptiness of their spot specifically for the blanket of stars above them, how they can see for lightyears and lightyears, so many stars that it’s nearly heart-stopping. 

He's been _up there_ and yet it still takes his breath away to remember just how vast the universe is. He’s spent his whole life wanting to know more about it. It’s how he and Shiro first bonded, after all. 

“You can be Keith Shirogane without this wedding,” Shiro says. 

“Think of the universal good, Shiro,” Keith answers, sarcastic. “If we cancel now, it’s definitely going to cause some shit.” 

“I guess you’re right,” Shiro says with a sigh. He slumps around Keith, hugging him close. He nuzzles at his neck. “I’m sorry, baby.”

“No, you were right before,” Keith says, looping one arm back to sink his fingers into Shiro’s hair. “I get you at the end of the day. That’s all I need.”

Shiro kisses his neck and it makes Keith sigh, relaxing further against him. Their wedding is going to be a disaster and nothing like they imagined, but it’s okay. Keith can deal. It wasn’t that big of a deal to him in the first place and now that he knows Shiro feels that way, too, it’s something of a relief. 

“… So let’s do it,” Shiro says. 

“Do what?” 

“Our ideal wedding,” Shiro says. He cups Keith’s shoulder, tugging until Keith twists around to look at him. “Let’s get married. Right now. City Hall closes in a couple hours, so let’s submit the paperwork we’ve been holding off on submitting. Let’s grab Coran and let’s come out here and lets get married. Our wedding.”

Keith blinks in a stunned silence as the words wash over him, once again hearing but barely comprehending. “Shiro—” 

“Let’s do it on our terms, right now!” Shiro’s eyes are burning again, determined and stubborn, that amazing smile that Keith fell in love with so far ago— cocksure and excited. “Then the other wedding won’t bother us because it’s not ours, it’s just a big party for everybody else.” He tucks his legs back and sits up onto his knees, grabbing both of Keith’s hands and cupping them between them. “Let’s go back and tell the others to come out here, and let’s do it.”

“Shiro—” 

“Keith! Marry me.” 

It's absurd. It’s ridiculous. Keith should tell him that it’s absurd and ridiculous. It’s completely spontaneous and stupid and not practical, not when they have an actual wedding looming on the horizon. He should laugh and tell Shiro he’s being silly.

But he doesn’t. 

He’s never heard a better idea in his life. 

“Marry me,” Shiro says again, quieter this time. His eyes sparkle like the stars above them. 

And Keith grins back, giddy in a way he hasn’t felt in ages. “Fuck!” he says, laughing. “Fuck it, yeah. Let’s do it!” 

-

They’re much rowdier on their drive back to their home. Shiro seems completely determined to distract Keith as Keith navigates through the canyons. It’s absolutely reckless of him to kiss Keith’s neck and lick at his jaw, then try to shove his big floating hand down Keith’s pants. 

It's a miracle Keith doesn’t crash the hoverbike. Shiro would claim it’s testament to just how good of a pilot he is. 

Regardless, Keith’s shocked to find the Paladins are still camping out in their house once they return. They come rushing out of the door as they see Shiro and Keith pull up. It’s a flurry of voices all at once asking if they’re okay. 

“We’re fine,” Shiro says, perfectly serene considering not fifteen minutes ago he seemed determined to make Keith crash them into a canyon wall via dick-stroking. He smiles, turning to offer his hand to Keith to help him down off the hoverbike. 

The way they hold hands as Keith touches down seems to reassure the Paladins more than anything else. Keith feels a little bad, again, for his earlier outburst and for worrying them all. 

“I didn’t think you’d all stick around,” Keith admits.

“We finished up planning for the day and figured we’d make you both some dinner,” Hunk says. “It’s in the oven, by the way. You’re welcome.” 

“You’re not getting a divorce, right?” Lance asks, bursting out of him like he can’t hold it in anymore. The other Paladins look at them with downright puppy dog eyes. 

Keith’s long become immune to puppy dog eyes (aside from Shiro’s), but he can’t leave them stewing in it. “We’re not getting a divorce and we’re not breaking up.” 

He should have anticipated the dogpile of hugs as they all fling themselves towards them, draping over Shiro and Keith. Someday, Keith thinks, it won’t take him by surprise when his friends demonstrate that they care. He likes to think he accepts the hug more graciously than he did when he was younger. He pats Hunk on the back as Hunk squeezes him tight and stoically accepts Lance snuffling against Shiro’s neck as he clings. 

“The opposite of divorce, in fact,” Shiro says once the Paladins untangle themselves. He grins, tugging on Keith’s hand. “We don’t have much time— we’re getting married. Tonight.” 

Lance gasps dramatically, which is by far the best reaction he’s ever given anything Keith-related. Keith doesn’t even feel that familiar anger spike hearing Lance’s antics. Hunk also gasps, although less dramatically. 

“What?” Pidge asks as Allura hops up and down, clapping her hands. 

“Oh!” she says, eyes bright. “How exciting!” 

“Shiro and I are dropping off the paperwork at City Hall and you’re all going to be at the original venue spot when we get back. Got it?” Keith asks, grinning up at Shiro. Shiro winks back at him. 

The others all start shouting questions, but Shiro and Keith barely listen as they barrel past them into their house, grabbing the PADD with their unsubmitted marriage certificate and other paperwork. Keith’s never stripped down so fast in his life (for non-sex purposes, at least), yanking on a fresh pair of pants and his least wrinkly button up. Shiro bounces from foot to foot as he yanks on some pants that smell less like impulse desert sex.

Outside their room, the Paladins crash through their house, too, cleaning up their mess in the kitchen and, presumably, turning off the oven. Keith will need to double-check that before they leave. 

Keith tries to fix his hair and then gives up, slinging it into a ponytail and letting Shiro drag him, laughing, back outside to their hoverbike. He looks delighted, like the young man he first fell in love with, his hair fluffy and looking casual and happy in a Henley and cardigan. 

“Let’s go, baby,” he says, as if Keith needs any coaxing. He’s already tripping after Shiro. 

He pulls Keith up to settle behind him. Shiro’s lucky that he knows Keith’s pretty determined to follow this spontaneous wedding to its conclusion because otherwise he’d just stick his hand down Shiro’s pants as payback for earlier. 

“Better hurry!” Shiro calls to the Paladins still gaping after them from the doorway. “Or else we’re getting married without you!” 

Then he guns the engine, kicking up dust as they speed away, racing against the night towards the city and City Hall. It’s not enough time for the Paladins to reply, but Keith’s pretty sure he hears them laughing. 

-

Keith blesses Shiro’s organizational skills and their stupid celebrity for the quickness of the City Hall visit. It’s a blessing that Shiro is sometimes hyper-critical of his own organization because the paperwork is impeccable. That plus a brilliant smile and wink convinces the clerk to put a bit of bustle to their step despite the late hour. 

Despite the flurry of their arrival, Shiro somehow has everything they need— their marriage license applications, their IDs, their application fee. His fiancé is far too responsible. 

The clerk affixes their official stamp to the paperwork with a small nod. Keith leaps into Shiro’s arms and kisses him while the clerk politely claps and hands back their PADD. Shiro fumbles for it blindly, unwilling to pull back from Keith’s enthusiastic kiss. He manages to pocket the datapad without incident, cradling Keith close.

It's without fanfare: they sign the papers and then that’s that. It’s exactly what Keith wanted, and although he doesn’t have his name-change paperwork filled out just yet, that at least he can mail in. 

“We’re married,” Keith whispers against Shiro’s mouth.

“Well, technically we will be in three days,” Shiro says, laughing against Keith’s lips. “After the waiting period.” 

It’s a technicality that Keith really does not care about. He grumbles and kisses Shiro harder. Shiro laughs, spinning him around. They’re making a scene, but at least the clerk isn’t politely clearing their throat in a pointed way. 

Keith breaks the kiss with a huff, blushing a little belatedly at the blatant display of affection. Very public, something he tends not to overdo, but he doesn’t even care. He grins at Shiro, flushing.

“Well, that’s that on my ideal wedding,” Keith says and Shiro laughs. He threads his fingers through Shiro’s hair, petting it away from his face. “Your turn, big guy.” 

“My turn,” Shiro agrees. He spins Keith around, and it’s stupid and ridiculous and they’re in City Hall. But Keith laughs, feeling light and free. 

Keith heads back towards their hoverbike, but Shiro’s hand in his stops him, tugging back. 

“Keith, wait.” 

“What is it?” Keith asks, turning. 

Shiro laughs, suddenly shy, his blush sweet even in the twilight dark of this summer night. He takes a breath and then digs his hand in his pocket.

He pulls out his grandfathers’ ring. 

“Oh,” Keith says. 

“Mix of our ideal weddings. Paladins are waiting for us, but… you know. This is just for you.” 

He holds out his other hand, waiting for Keith’s. Keith hiccups, not even hesitating to place his hand in Shiro’s. He smiles up at him, feeling buoyant and free, standing on an unimportant street outside City Hall, in the dark of their hometown, not technically married but basically married.

He holds his breath, biting his lip as Shiro slips his grandfather’s ring on Keith’s finger. Fitted to Keith’s hand, it fits perfectly, snug and glinting from the light of a nearby streetlamp. 

Keith does not cry but it’s a near thing. He laughs instead, holding his hand up and staring at it— at the way his hand looks with Shiro’s ring on it. 

“We’ll get the Luxite inscription later,” Shiro promises, sounding apologetic as if he has anything to be sorry for.

“Give me yours,” Keith says, hand out. He tugs up Shiro’s hand once he gets it, pressing a kiss to each knuckle, then a lingering kiss at the base of his ring finger. 

Shiro laughs, so softly, and when Keith looks up at him, he’s gone misty-eyed. He stays still and quiet as Keith slips the second ring onto his finger. 

Shiro presses his hand forward, tangling their fingers together. He stares at their hands, studying the circle of silver around his finger. His smile is so soft, so tender that it nearly steals Keith’s breath entirely. 

“Well,” Shiro says, after the silence hovers between them, overwhelming and gentle. “Should we go? They’re waiting for us.”

Keith squeezes his hand, stepping in closer and catching his mouth in a tender kiss. He nuzzles his nose to his once they part, feeling like he’s going to burst out of his skin from happiness.

“Let’s go, Shiro.” 

The Paladins are there waiting at their spot by the time they get there. This ceremony won’t be official, either, not with their three-day waiting period, but that doesn’t matter. It’s not the point. Their friends are all there waiting— Coran with his officiant’s guide on his PADD, the Paladins broken off into groups of two: Hunk and Allura with Keith and Pidge and Lance with Shiro. 

Everything before this moment felt like a frenzied rush, but as Shiro parks their hoverbike gently, a calmness falls over Keith. He pulls off his goggles and tries to fix his hair, suddenly feeling a little shy.

But Shiro is there to meet him, holding out his hands and helping him down off the hoverbike again. He doesn’t let go, thumbs swiping across Keith’s hands. His thumb drags across Keith’s ring and that centers him, reminds him of why he’s here, that all is well. 

“We weren’t sure if you’d like flowers,” Allura says as they approach. She’s holding a small bouquet, a small cluster of flowers from a vase Shiro set out in their house a few days ago. 

Keith chooses one flower and tucks it behind Shiro’s ear for him. It makes Shiro laugh, the color a vibrant red standing out against his black Henley. Their colors, Keith realizes, laughing as Shiro does the same for him, tucking the brightest bloom behind Keith’s ear. 

“We’re ready,” Shiro says, smiling as he looks into Keith’s eyes. 

They fall into formation, as easy as breathing, Coran standing between Pidge and Lance, Allura and Hunk, and Shiro and Keith between them all, standing facing one another. Shiro tangles their fingers together and, this time, he doesn’t let go. 

It’s theirs. There’s nothing fancy about the ceremony— the rings already on, no abundance of flowers. No archway, no aisle, no customs or costumes or traditions or music or dances. It’s just the two of them facing one another, surrounded by their friends. 

“Coran,” Shiro says. “Keep it to three minutes, okay?”

“What?” Lance croaks behind Shiro. “That’s so short!” 

“Long ceremonies are boring,” Keith says, grinning up at Shiro. “Keep it to two, Coran.” 

It makes them all laugh and Shiro squeezes his hands. His smile is dimpling and sweet when he says, “Promise to tell you my vows later.” 

Keith blushes. “Yeah. Me too.” 

Coran flips through his PADD and begins, walking them through the Altean ceremony— simple, sweet, and straightforward. There’s no knot-tying or the traditional dances, no carol or yodel of good fortune. Keith hears Hunk start to cry about thirty seconds in and he has to press his lips together to keep from laughing about it. He sees Lance bury his face in Pidge’s shoulder, having to hunch all the way down in order to reach her. She stoically does not elbow him for it. 

Coran manages to keep the ceremony two minutes long. He tuts to himself as he skims through pages and pages, paraphrasing massive volumes of text with a simple, “And we hope the grooms will be happy—” 

“Yes!” Allura cheers. 

“And we come here to celebrate their union,” Coran recites.

“Hell yeah!” Pidge says. 

“Yes, hurray!” Hunk calls. 

“And as they tie the ceremonial knot— ah, well, metaphorically in this case,” Coran says with a laugh, “so, too, do they tie their souls together in the sacred connection of hearts.”

“Fuck yeah!” Shiro shouts to the sky and it makes them all laugh. 

“And so, with that,” Coran says, flipping off his PADD and throwing his hands in the air, jazzing his fingers like sparklers. “We congratulate you on becoming one!” 

“Fuck yeah,” Keith whispers, parroting Shiro, and grabs him around the middle, twisting them and dipping Shiro before he chases after him to kiss him. Shiro hums in surprise, fisting his hand in Keith’s wrinkly button up and holding on for dear life. 

They’ve missed the sunset for the long kiss, but they don’t seem to mind as Keith holds him tight, kissing him and kissing him and refusing to come up for air until he’s sure there are more stars in the sky above them. 

The Paladins hoot and cheer, clapping. He thinks Hunk even manages a wolf whistle, which utterly delights Allura enough that she tries to mimic it. 

And it’s theirs. 

-

Later that night, once the Paladins have gone home and it’s just the two of them, turning the oven back on to heat up the dinner Hunk generously made for them, Keith just leans against the doorframe to the kitchen, watching Shiro as he heats up some herbal tea. 

He feels like he might float away at any moment, his heart glowing in his chest. He watches Shiro putz around their kitchen, scrubbing a sponge over the counter that doesn’t need cleaning. 

Keith tears his eyes away from Shiro long enough to look at the ring on his finger, glinting in the delicate light of their kitchen. 

When he looks up again, Shiro’s watching him, his eyes fond as he watches Keith study his ring. Keith blushes, but can’t really be embarrassed. When Shiro holds his arm out to him, it’s easy for Keith to cross the kitchen and fold himself into his embrace. 

“So,” Shiro murmurs into Keith’s hair as he hugs him tight. “I seem to recall a promise to hear some vows while getting fucked.”

“Oh yeah?” Keith asks, laughing. He tips his head back to grin at Shiro. “I seem to recall someone telling me the best part of a wedding is the hot newlywed sex.” 

“Oh, who said that?” Shiro asks, grinning. “He sounds super smart.”

“Very smart,” Keith agrees, running his hands up Shiro’s chest. “And very worth fucking. I have some very good vows.”

“Better make sure he hears it, then,” Shiro says, making sure to flip off the stove so the kettle doesn’t go off before he scoops Keith into his arms and carries him to their bedroom.

They forget entirely about dinner. 

-

The next morning, once they’re both sufficiently fucked out and blushing still from Keith’s especially saccharine vows, they agree to keep their marriage a secret for now. 

Shiro does order some flowers to be sent to City Hall to thank the clerk. “And to subtly imply that we should keep this between us,” Shiro says with a wink. “Just in case they feel the need to talk.” 

They needn’t have worried. Later that afternoon, the clerk sends a reply to their note with a promise that their lips are sealed. 

In the meantime, Shiro calls his parents to apologize for being spontaneous without them. They are the appropriate levels of disapproving but also somewhat impressed. 

Keith has a similar conversation with Krolia, who doesn’t seem the least bit bothered at all to have missed out on the ceremony. 

“Galra mated pairs, remember?” his mom says when he asks why she isn’t upset. She shrugs, her smile gentle. “I have already been witness to your devotion.” 

Keith sighs, smiling. “Yeah. Thanks, Mom.” 

“And I will see you at your official ceremony, regardless,” she says with a sage nod. “I look forward to seeing what comes of that.”

“Jesus,” Keith sighs, even though he knows his mom has no idea who Jesus even is. “Me too. No idea what’s happening there.” 

And, really, he doesn’t care. It’s a remarkable relief to not care. He smiles down at his ring as he hangs up and then stands to go find Shiro. 

-

The day of their official wedding dawns bright and sunny. 

At least, it’s the first Saturday in months where they get to sleep in. Keith and Shiro have always been early risers, of course, but when Keith opens his eyes and it’s only eight in the morning, he feels unbearably luxurious.

He rolls over to faceplant straight into Shiro’s chest. Shiro grunts, already awake, his hand falling to rest on the back of Keith’s head. 

“Today’s the day,” he says, voice sleep-soft and rumbly in his chest. 

Keith presses a kiss just above his heart. It’s sappy and besotted, but it makes Shiro sigh beneath him. 

“How long until the Paladins break in?” Keith asks.

“Don’t speak it into existence, baby,” Shiro says.

As if sensing it, Keith hears the front door bang open and the flurry of their friends’ voices come rushing through the house. Keith barks a laugh. 

“I will _not_ miss this,” Keith says, shoving the blankets aside and jumping into his sweatpants before he leaves their bedroom to shout at them for being loud. 

They enjoy an easy morning together, their last Paladin Breakfast before they return to Paladin Dinners. While they’re in the middle of enjoying some coffee and waffles, Allura slides a delicately wrapped gift across the table. 

“Oh!” Shiro says. 

“It’s your wedding gift, from all of us,” Allura says with a smile. 

“Open it!” Pidge urges. 

Keith does, ripping into the paper before Shiro can try to unfold it carefully and save it for later. Inside the box is a folded up letter. Puzzled, Keith unfolds it to read it—

It’s a suspension letter from VOP. 

“Uh,” Keith says. “Thank you?” 

Shiro’s equally perplexed face in tandem with Keith’s makes the Paladins laugh. Allura shakes her head and explains, “We know that if we were to simply say to take some time off, you’d still be appearing for meetings and doing so much work for our organization. But… we want you two to actually enjoy your moonhoney.”

“Honeymoon, babe,” Lance stage-whispers.

“Honeymoon,” Allura corrects. 

“Which brings us to present number two,” Hunk says, sliding a second box over.

Shiro opens it this time, frowning at the GAC-card. He flips it over and his eyes bug out at the totaled amount. “Guys—” 

“Honeymoon gift, no give-backsies!” Lance crows. He grins. “We want you to fuck off this planet for a while. Enjoy yourselves. You’re officially temporarily fired from VOP.” 

“We can’t accept this,” Shiro says.

“It’s fine,” Hunk says with a wave of his hand. “We all pitched in— and all your other guests, too. Literally the least they can do after all you two have done for the universe.” 

“I—” Shiro fumbles. He looks at Keith.

“We don’t know what to say,” Keith says. 

“Don’t say anything,” Allura says with a warm smile. “Just enjoy yourselves. And we hope that you can enjoy yourselves today, too.” 

Keith laughs, folding up the letter and pocketing the GAC card. He grins at Shiro, feeling overfull with affection for their family. 

“Yeah,” he says, taking Shiro’s hand. “I think we will.”

-

Their actual wedding is a fiasco. 

They arrive at the Garrison— Keith taking a steeling breath just before he sets foot on it for the first time in years— and it’s already absolute chaos. There’s a queue of wedding guests and would-be guests vying to sneak into the venue. There are aliens scalping invitations, charging obscene amounts of money for back-row seats. 

Once inside, it’s clear that someone’s forgotten to pick up the ceremonial tying garb, all their many, many outfit changes stuck in a massive laundry pile in the corner. Keith nearly trips over it as he enters his dressing room. 

There’s a mix-up on the sizing of the wedding party and so when Shiro opens the door to his dressing room, he’s met with twenty-five Best Mans all ready and practicing their Best Man speeches. The one small solace, Shiro confesses later, is that Slav is not among them. 

Keith, meanwhile, has only ten Best Mans. As a few rejected wedding partiers shuffle from Shiro’s room to Keith’s, Keith can’t help but note their disappointed faces. 

“I wanted to be behind Shiro,” he hears one of them mutter. Keith can’t blame him, even if it means he has to fire him from the wedding party entirely for trying to stake his claim on his groom. 

Once they pick through all the clothes for the Best Mans and Maids of Honor, though, there’s a clear sizing issue. Lance ends up having to wear Allura’s dress, as it’s the only thing that can fit him. Allura, at least, looks great in the tux sized far too small for Lance— using her Altean abilities to shrink down near to Pidge’s height.

“It’ll make for nice symmetry after all,” she says, chipper as ever, adjusting her bowtie. 

Pidge snickers, adjusting her own. “You look great, Lance.”

Lance takes it in stride, sticking out one leg and admiring himself in the mirror. 

The ceremony itself is a flurry of confusing adaptation of traditions. Keith genuinely can’t remember what they’re supposed to be doing, following Coran’s hand-flapping from the wings to guide them. He should have known things would only go from strange to stranger when he and Shiro hoist themselves up onto their stilts and gingerly pick their way through the swarm of the crowd, leading themselves towards the altar. 

Once they reach the altar, they duck behind a sheet to do their first costume-change during the ceremony while Shiro tries to complete the Carol of Good Fortune, stumbling over the words as he nearly trips over the pants with seven leg-holes. 

The Best Mans and the Maids of Honor swarm around them, humming in tune to Shiro, buzzing like bees. Keith feels a trickle of anxiety sweat bead at his forehead, surrounded by people making too much noise.

But looking up and seeing Shiro centers him. Shiro smiles, clearly just as overwhelmed as he is. There isn’t enough time, really, for them to say anything— aside from Shiro singing the Carol _at_ Keith for all intents and purposes— and beyond that, there’s barely time to be anxious as they attempt to wade through the many, many traditions they need to complete.

Shiro finishes the Carol just as the sheet drops, revealing their high-collared garb. Keith whips his hand out in a flourish because it seems the right thing to do, met with a crescendo of oohs and ahhs and a smattering of clapping. 

Then the Maids of Honor start throwing hardboiled eggs at them. They try to catch them all and place them in the ceremonial basket, but the voluminous sleeves of their costumes make it hard to catch everything. Eventually, Keith just steps in front of Shiro to keep him from getting pelted, using the basket to try to catch them all that way. 

They manage the Altean knot-tying, though, after their second costume change that leaves their arms fully exposed. Shiro takes his time wrapping twine and ivy up Keith’s left arm and then his right arm. Then Keith does the same, tying up Shiro’s Altean arm as best he can, and then his left arm. Then, their officiant— not Coran but a gruff-looking Olkari named Stad’i— finishes tying them together, wrapping their hands together. Their rings glint and it makes Keith feel warm, his smile besotted.

“You are now bound forever, souls entwined,” Stad’i intones without an ounce of Coran’s sentiment. 

“Shiro,” Keith murmurs, wanting to say more but unable to find the words. He’s sure it must shine in the way he says his name, though.

Shiro’s expression softens and he says Keith’s name, squeezing his hands. “Keith.” 

“And now for the hoop dance,” Stad’i shouts, and throws a net over them both. Then instead of bringing out the hoops Shiro and Keith must literally jump through, he launches into a long speech about intergalactic peace that has nothing to do with Shiro, Keith, or even feasibly Voltron. 

It lasts for literally a full varga. Keith’s feet feel numb from standing for so long. Their hands are still tied together, which isn’t too bad until they’re meant to change into their final outfit. Keith fumbles for so long that he nearly moons the entire congregation. 

When another Best Man tries to help Shiro with his pants, Keith outright hisses at him, sending the guy wheeling backwards in alarm, hands up. 

The ceremony is a rush like that, a blur of traditions and sentiments. By the time they reach the reception, Keith’s exhausted and ready for at least twelve naps. 

Instead, everyone gets food poisoning from some bad Olkari Cacklefist Mushroom. There are seven cakes (all chocolate) and seventeen pies (all blueberry). 

The entire massive hall the Garrison is hosting the reception is an absurd mix of colors and flowers— greens and purples and blues and reds and beiges and greys and blacks and whites, all of it a riot of strange colors that clash in a way Keith never considered. Chartreuse is a tough color in the best of circumstances, after all, and it’s the most dominant in the color scheme, painted across the entire ceiling and chairs. 

And the flowers. Far too many flowers. Slav has a conniption about tulips touching roses and his shouting can be heard through the entire great hall. 

Shiro turns pale and it’s only because Keith is skilled at weaving between people far larger than him that he manages to get Shiro out of there before Slav turns his frenzy upon him. 

Then, three bands show up for the reception and they all refuse to leave. And so they start playing together, a cacophony of meshing planetary styles and genres. It sounds like a western film got sent through a car wash with an accordion. Keith cringes at the first song, unsure how the hell they’ll be expected to dance to that— not that they’re allowed to dance unless it’s, apparently, the ancient traditional Terran dance of the Electric Slide. Keith has no idea what that is and hasn’t been taught it, so he hopes that nobody causes an intergalactic war if he skips that one. 

Instead of the Electric Slide, though, Keith’s mother grabs Shiro and drags him into the ceremonial Galran Eqels dance, which mostly consists of five burly Galra men throwing Shiro ten feet in the air. It’s incredibly alarming and it’s only because his mom tells him it’s fine that he doesn’t immediately try to save Shiro.

Shiro starts laughing after the third toss, though, clearly having a grand time with it. He looks _tiny_ surrounded by the tall Galra men, which is adorable. Shiro laughs harder still when Keith’s own set of five burly Galra men start throwing him in the air alongside Shiro. 

“Fuck, what the fuck!” Keith yells, laughing and having the time of his life. 

They’re tossed in the air asynchronously, Keith watching Shiro fly into the air just as he’s coming down and vice versa. 

The reception goes on for seven hours. Keith is exhausted midway through and, to borrow Shiro’s own words to describe Keith’s brand of introversion, starts turning into a pumpkin. It’s only the generous helpings of Nunvill that keeps him going and ignore the ache in his feet and the ache in his social skills. 

It also helps that Lance ends up faceplanting into a pie when he trips over his dress. Pidge got a recording of it. It’s made Keith’s entire life. 

“This is a fucking disaster,” Keith says as he feeds Shiro a piece of pie, gooey blueberries slipping down his fingers.

It should be gross when Shiro licks his fingers, but it just makes Keith feel moony. He strokes his thumb over Shiro’s bottom lip. 

“It sure is,” Shiro says, laughing. “But it’s perfect.” 

And somehow, despite it all, Keith finds himself agreeing. The bands continue playing, subtly getting louder in an attempt to drown the others out. They’re surrounded by people Keith’s literally never seen in his life and thinks he never will see again.

He thinks of the gift from the Paladins, a honeymoon waiting for them after all of this is over. He thinks that going off-planet is probably the only way to keep Shiro from doing secret work for VOP. He can’t wait to see where they’ll go. 

He can’t wait for it to just be the two of them, together, uninterrupted. 

He can deal with this ridiculous wedding in the meantime. 

“Let’s never do anything like this again,” Keith says with the deepest feeling. He feeds Shiro another bit of pie. 

Shiro hums, his eyes glittering. “What about a vow renewal next year?”

“Next year? Fuck off!” 

Keith laughs and then hums when Shiro dips in to kiss him. They didn’t get to have a you-may-kiss-your-groom moment, but this more than makes up for it. He licks into Shiro’s mouth, tasting blueberries. 

“I’ll settle for a vow renewal in twenty-five years,” Keith says when they part. “Maybe by then nobody will know us.” 

“Twenty-five and then fifty?” Shiro asks, grinning. 

Keith’s heart leaps. Mostly, he’s never been in the habit of making five-year plans, ten-year plans, much less so far in the future. But, really, he knows it’s true: no matter how many years stretch before them, he’ll be there with Shiro.

“You’ve got yourself a deal,” Keith says. 

He pets his fingers through Shiro’s hair, brushing it back from his forehead. He’d styled it back earlier today but after so long, it’s come loose. He still looks casually handsome, of course, one unruly lock of his hair curling over his forehead. 

“Until then,” Shiro says, leaning into Keith’s touch. “Let’s never do this again.”

“Agreed,” Keith says, laughing. He kisses Shiro again to seal that promise. 

Shiro’s hand slides over his back and up, cupping the back of his neck, careful not to dislodge the tiny braid he has there, the delicate weaving interlaced with the chartreuse flowers. The touch makes Keith feel like he’s set on fire— and he loves that. Loves that, despite all the time they’ve been together, the fact that they’re _married_ , the fact that he knows Shiro inside and out, even just a simple touch at the back of his neck can make him feel transcendentally cosmic and human at once. 

“So,” Keith says quietly.

“So?” Shiro prompts, grinning at Keith’s soft tone. 

He kneads into the back of Keith’s neck and Keith resists the urge to purr, sinking forward until he has to plant his hands on Shiro’s wide thigh in order to keep his balance. It tips him closer into Shiro’s space, but neither of them hardly mind that. 

“So,” Keith whispers and then grins. “You’re my husband.” 

“You’re _my_ husband,” Shiro says back. “Commander Keith Shirogane.” 

It feels good to hear it, just like the first time he heard the name on Shiro’s lips. Keith bursts into life with that, laughing, the sound punching out of him. He submitted the paperwork last week, technically, but it’s the first time Shiro’s said it out loud, the first time that he’s been able to hear it. 

“Fuck,” Keith says, kissing Shiro sloppily. He feels breathless when he pulls away. “Say that again?” 

Shiro looks far too pleased with himself when he says, “Whatever you want, Shiro.” 

Keith jerks back, shocked. “What?” 

“We’re both Shiro now,” Shiro says innocently. “So now I get to call you Shiro.” 

“That will confuse everyone,” Keith mumbles, his face burning beet red. “Including me.” 

“You’re a cute Shiro, though,” Shiro says, tugging Keith in closer and kissing the tip of his nose and then each burning cheek. “You’re so cute, baby.” 

“Fuck off,” Keith says and then laughs. He wrinkles his nose and shoves at Shiro’s shoulder. “If you start calling me that, I’m going to call you whatever you usually call me. Like— like Spitfire. Or baby. Or sweetheart.” 

Instead of looking deterred, that seems to only thrill Shiro further. His eyes are sparkling with mischief now. He cups Keith’s cheek and pulls him in closer. 

“You could call me your husband again, instead. If you wanted.” 

“Only if you behave,” Keith says, closing his eyes with a sigh as Shiro presses a few kisses against the curve of his jaw. 

Shiro laughs, breathless and serene, and kisses his ear. He whispers, “Please? I’ll be good.”

Really, Keith could never resist such a request, especially one said quite so sweetly by his husband. And really, just like hearing his name— Keith Shirogane— feels like a thrill, calling and thinking of Shiro as his _husband_ is equally as arresting. 

Really, he never would have guessed, all those years ago when they first met, that this is where they’d be today. In the distance, the cacophony of horrible music rises like a tide, the crowd getting shoutier and rowdier the more Nunvill they drink. Slav looks like he might come over to talk with them, but then Lance takes one for the team and grabs him, leading him onto the dance floor for a dance even as Slav shouts about the doom upon the whole world. 

The world is chaos. But Shiro, at least, is ever-present and ever-his. 

“My husband,” Keith says. It comes out much softer than he intended, his voice hushed and his heart soaring. 

“My husband,” Shiro says, and hearing it is just as good as saying it, Keith thinks. It must show on his face for the way Shiro’s answering smile goes soft. “I love you. Thank you for marrying me.” 

Keith laughs, a hiccupping sound just on the borderline of tears. And he managed to go the whole ridiculous ceremony without even tearing up. “Thanks for marrying me, too. Thanks for— for thinking I’m worth it.”

“I know you’re worth it,” Shiro whispers, pressing a kiss to Keith’s lips, lingering and sweet. “Love of my life. _Husband._ ” 

Keith mewls, the closest he’ll allow himself to cry. Then he fists his hand in Shiro’s pretty dress-shirt and yanks him in, kissing him hard. 

And it’s perfect and exactly as it should be. Everything— perfect.

**Author's Note:**

> This story is part of the [LLF Comment Project](https://longlivefeedback.tumblr.com/llfcommentproject) (including the [LLF Comment Builder](https://longlivefeedback.tumblr.com/commentbuilder)), which was created to improve communication between readers and authors. This author invites and appreciates responses, including:
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> If you missed it at the start, be sure to check out my artist's work for this fic [here](https://ardentknight.tumblr.com/post/621779019545837568/i-had-the-pleasure-of-working-with-stardropdream)! 
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